


The Corpse and the Medical Examiner

by Tea_is_Not_Them



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst With A Bittersweet Ending, BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Banter, Corpse Bride, Crowley is a medical examiner, Dead Aziraphale (Good Omens), Except Aziraphale, Fluff, Human, Human Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Multiple cases of major character death!, Mutual Pining, Nanny Crowley (Good Omens), No Smut, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements, Warlock - Freeform, everyone is human, i love adam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:48:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 32,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23536306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tea_is_Not_Them/pseuds/Tea_is_Not_Them
Summary: (Edited the Summary)Anthony J. Crowley is a medical examiner in the coldest area imaginable. One day his daily walk turns into a scene from a horror movieBut instead of getting murdered, he catches feelings.Is it weird to fall in love with a man who died 144 years ago?
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 116
Kudos: 95





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> I am a fan of iZombie so it probably shows,,, Aziraphale isn't a zombie

Living somewhere cold was the last thing that Crowley wanted to do, but the promotion was practically worth his entire apartments rent for three years. So he took the opportunity by the throat, but he did not like the cold. Working for the police wasn't his first idea of life either, but being a ME was a fun job, albeit a little dark. It reminded him of when he was a kid and his ma would call him cold-blooded as he put his cold hands on her, and she would smack them away and scold him with an amused smile.

Anyway, it was fucking cold. So cold that people were out ice skating. He hated wearing so many layers, but he still looked stylish so he let the irritation slide. 

Throughout his thoughts he found himself in an isolated little area that seemed even colder than the other areas.

“Shit.” Was all he could verbalize without shivering.

When he looked down a few feet away, he could see a shallow area of frozen water. It was the size of a grave, he thought morbidly. It looked frozen for a foot down or so, it was almost unrealistic how much of the little area was frozen. Crowley hums, rapping the large shock of ice. With a tap the ice cracks, which was crazy, because the amount of ice was fucking insane. It seemed strong enough for him to stand on. He jolts backwards and sees another person slam a hand onto the other side of the shallow waters frozen sheath. Oh fuck was this actually a grave?

His breath is fast and shallow, the ice breaks as he is struggling with the sight in front of him. 

The ice breaks and crackled, like something inhumane was shoving a sharp fist into it. A large chunk was thrown out of the water. A blond man’s head peaks through, death shrouded the others features, the bright blue that was probably once his iris bled through the rest of his eyes like an ink spill. He looked very dead. Circles appeared underneath his icy eyes like dark smears of charcoal. His curly hair was wet and limply laying like dead tentacles with the water of what looked to be his grave. He looks dazed. 

The man stared up at him and then blinked touched his face and his hands and says,  
“Is it still 1875?”

It was 2019. 

Crowley stares for a moment, the dead man is asking about him. The dead man is speaking. He literally walked in a public park and found a grave. Oh my God. 

“Uh, no.” he sputtered back, and the corpse slowly pulls himself out of the water.

The blond looks down at himself, squeezes water out of his jacket and shivered a little. He puts a careful hand over his chest, where a heart should be. His mouth parts as a soft gasp escapes his mouth. Crowley notices that he isn't decomposed, which he should be a skeleton by now, or a preserved fossil.

“Oh. oh dear. what year is it?”

“Uh, 2019.” Crowley says between shivering in fear and cold. 

The dead man looks at him up and down, “Are you cold?”

“Well yeah its like, -30 out here are you serious?” he was exaggerating, but still. It was well below freezing.

“Well dear boy you should get somewhere warm. I wish I knew where in the world we were, I used to have a delightful-” his voice was quieter now, as if the words died on his lips and tongue, just as he had seemingly died in the watery grave.

Crowley is halfway between fear, and a small bit of sympathy. The man looks up at him, his eyes full of oxymoron's. They looked so alive, but dead. Emotional but unable to extend it past. Seeing but blind. 

“Well. I- I’m sorry I scared you so. you might want to run along before you freeze.” Something was unsaid between the two, and suddenly Crowley had a stupid and terrible decision.

“Well? Come on. I cant just leave you here and not know what's going on.” Crowley grumbles and the mans head cocks like a dogs. Instead of any words, he gestured the alive man to lead the way.

This was a bad idea. It was a busy day near this park, and people where looking at the soaking wet man, who is not dressed for the weather walking normal, as if he wasn't cold. Crowley lead him to his flat, up the stairs, and onto a towel covered couch. 

He shucked off his outer layers and sighed at the blissful heat of the room. The dead man blinked like a child, his face going a bluish tinge. Was he blushing?

“Alright, I'm Anthony J Crowley. I found you in a grave shaped pool of iced over water, and here you are. A walking dead man, in my house.”

The man looks at him levelly, “I'm Aziraphale Arch, I ran a bookshop. My it seems like everything has changed.”

Crowley snorted despite himself, “Its been what, like 144 years?”

“Ah yes I believe you’re right.” He looks downtrodden, and Crowley then feels a little bad. 

“Ok well, first order of business, put you in some dry clothes.” Crowley leaves to rummage around his closet and finds something that will fit the other.  
He hands the clothes, a pair of big sweatpants, and an overgrown button up. He was not ready for this. 

His phone goes off. He answers with a groan.

“Anthony Crowley, Medical Examiner, what do you want?”

“Crowley!” It was Anathema. Shit it was work. 

“Yeah Ana?”

“We could totally use you for this case I’m on, please?” 

Crowley scoffs, and looks over to the now dry and dressed corpse man in his room.

“Listen Ana, I have personal things to deal with-”

“Crowley you owe me one.”

Shit. He does owe her, “Yeah fine.”

“Great I’m at your door!”

“NGK WHOT?!”

She hangs up and there's a knock at his door. He runs over, and Aziraphale has already folded all the dry towels, and has begun to clean any water he had left from before. Crowley smiled a little at it, at least his corpse house guest cleaned up. Hastur never did the ass. Then he realized he has a strange man in his house, and his coworker would see him no matter what. What a tangled web he weaves. 

With a tired look at Aziraphale he says carefully, “My coworker is here, please do not say anything that will embarrass me.”

The man hums and nods, before leaving the Livingroom as he opens the door, “Anathema.”

“Hey Crowley you ready for the job?” Crowley nods slowly.

“What even is it?”

“Oh a man named Michael Piscis has been murdered, and we need you to come look at the body. Its super interesting, though I think you’ll love it.”

Crowley nods again, slips on a few outer layers and tells Anathema to wait for him to grab something. She sits on the couch and looks disgusted, “Shit Crowley why is there a cold damp spot?”

“Oi witch I spilled something, just don't sit on it.” He called back and then saw Aziraphale sitting with perfect posture in his room. He looked at the now alive man.

“Sorry I was in here without your permission but I didn't want to be out there with your coworker. It might have been quite a problem.”

Crowley smiled a little, “ah yeah thank you, I don't need to explain the man who looks dead to the witch. Anyways, I wanted to tell you that you can stay here for a while. I did kinda make you my responsibility.”

“Oh I don't want to impose-”

“Don't worry about it, anyway maybe I could find out what's happened.” Crowley was always curious, it was why he got in so much trouble, but made a great Medical Examiner.  
“Okay.”

Crowley hummed, and grabbed his wallet and keys, “Make yourself at home angel.”

He walked into the living room before he could deal with what he said, and soon he was on his way to the office.

\-------------  
He hummed and suddenly he asked Newton, the records man, to see if he could find any missing cases during the year of 1875.

“That's a long time ago Crowley.” he was flicking through files anyway, since he was used to Crowley’s weird love of unsolved murder cases, “Uh there's only one, a missing persons case.”

“Great! can I see it and make a copy?”

“Yes, please don't let it leave the building. Boss would kill me.”

“Yeah yeah, I know the rules Lizard.”

Newt looks at him with a mix of amusement and annoyance and rolled his eyes. Crowley ran off and made a copy and had the original to Newton in a few minutes. Newt nodded and refiled them. Crowley knew the kid since he was an intern. He was shy and horrible with technology but was great at filing. He felt a little bad the guy got stuck in a downstairs office alone, but Anathema and him always visited on break.

He sat at his desk, after doing the examination for Anathema, and sighed. He hadn't read the file before he had copied it off and he hoped it held results.  
Yes. It did.

“Aziraphale Arch, Age 29-30, blond hair blue eyes pale skin. Bookshop owner. Was last seen in Morosely Park.” The case was closed since it was assumed the man was dead. It had been exactly 144 years. He guessed very well and pat himself on the back before continuing to read.

“His footsteps stopped abruptly on a trail and he was never seen again. The only suspects were his brother Gabriel Arch or sister Uriel Arch.” Crowley sighed. Poor guy.  
He was jolted from his thoughts with a thump on his desk.

“What are you looking at Crowley?” Dagon asked. She was the other Medical Examiner, and was slightly tolerable. She kept her files perfect and didn't steal food from his side of the employee fridge.

“Old case files, hobby of mine. You’d do well to find one.”

She laughed and rolled her eyes, “As if Crawley.”

She left the room, leaving Crowley to finish up there and go home. 

\----------  
When he got home Crowley noticed something. Aziraphale was doing something in the kitchen and he walked over confused. He was making food? The blond looked up and smiled shyly.

“Sorry dear, thought to make myself useful somehow.” He said, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

Crowley hummed and looked at the food. Pasta. Well it was all he had, he really needed to go grocery shopping.

Aziraphale held a forkful of the pasta up, and Crowley obligingly took the bite. 

It was amazing. And the first homecooked meal he had in forever. His guest looked expectantly and he nodded his enjoyment. The blond lit up and smiled. Crowley saw that one of his books was open on the couch, it was an old Jane Austen that he was given from his ma. 

Aziraphale had plated the food while Crowley wasn't looking, and damn that was fast. There was only one plate though.

“Aren't you going to eat?” he asked, and then remembered that that was a stupid question. 

Aziraphale looked at him sadly, “I cant really do that anymore I don't think.” then he lightened up.

“But cooking it was fun.” 

Crowley nodded, and took the plate carefully, “Uh thank you, anyway.”

Aziraphale nodded, humming and continuing on in the Jane Austen novel. He took a deep breath and handed the man his missing case folder. The blond took the file after closing the book. He carefully looked through the file, and suddenly he looked stricken.

‘It was Gabriel.”

“What really? that fast?”

Aziraphale looked unusually cross at the photo of his brother, “He and I were close as kids. Then I wanted to run the bookshop instead of the family business, and he was so mad at me he disowned me.”

His face goes soft and sad, “I would know him anywhere, and being pulled away from the path... Yes, that was him.”

Crowley took a deep breath again, steadying himself for the probably rude question, “Do... Do you remember dying?”

Aziraphale looked wistfully, and his hand went to a necklace. He hadn't noticed it when he first saw the corpse that day. It was a gold and silver cross, some of it rusted.

“Yes. I.. I do. I was pulled from the path and was thrown into the grave. It was dry when I was thrown in, but then I fainted. When I woke up it was so cold, and raining and I couldn't get out, or scream. Dying was actually a relief.” He let out a humorless laugh, “It was nice and suddenly I was warm... Now I’m back, 144 years later.”

Crowley feels his brows knit together in sympathy, he placed a careful hand on the others shoulder. Aziraphale smiled at him softly.

“I am terribly sorry to be a bother. You probably don’t want a dead man in your house.”

“No Aziraphale, it’s really fine. Uh, well I’m a Medical Examiner, so I’m used to the dead. I mean not the ones that walk and talk but I suppose I’ll get used to it.” he joked, the blond laughed a little but then looked curious.

“Since I think I will be alive in this century for a bit, could you teach me about it?”

“Yeah sure angel.”

\-------------  
It had become a nice routine for Crowley. He would wake up, see Aziraphale on the couch reading or cooking breakfast. He would eat, talk with his house guest, go to work, come home and shower and then eat and teach the corpse about this century. It was a peaceful month, no one but him knew Aziraphale existed. Until one day.

He woke up late and saw Aziraphale asleep, the first time through the whole thing. He smiled softly and laid a blanket over him, and then his door opened.

“-So Crowley your door is unlocked and oh there's another person. Who is that?” She asked with a raised brow. Aziraphale thankfully had not woken up from the noise but he shushed her and pulled her away from the couch.

Anathema had the tendency to come in unannounced. She usually came at worst times, the witch practically knew when it was terrible to show up, like an oracle, and came in right when she knew it would inconvenience him most.  
“Who is it? Oh I thought the pendulum was wrong.”

He ignores the witchy words and sighed, “Listen its an old friend and he needed to stay somewhere safe.”

“When did this start?” She asked and Crowley sighed. she would never leave well enough alone. Sometimes that was great, because they were much alike. Most times it was terrible if he wanted to not spill the details of his life.

“Ana please-”

Aziraphale blearily sat up his jaw cracking really loud as he yawned silently in comparison. He looked up and caught sight of Anathema. He quickly looked away, keeping his head down so she wouldn't look at his eyes.

“Uh Hello?” He asked carefully and Anathema watched him. Crowley felt a bubble of annoyance and weird protectiveness.

“Hello. I'm Anathema Device.”

“Aziraphale.” He offered back. And he caught Crowley eye, the silent fear was evident. 

“So when did you and Crowley meet?”

Aziraphale looked stricken, he didn't know what to say. Neither of them had thought about what to tell anyone. He bit his lip and went to say something.

“Last month?” Crowley winced.

Anathema raised an eyebrow at him and he sighed, “Ok so I found a stranger about to freeze to death in the park and I brought him here.”

Aziraphale sighed and kept the story in his mind.

Anathema sighed and looked at Crowley, “I know you're probably harmless, but Crowley are you dumb you stupid kind-hearted bastard!”

Crowley smiled awkwardly and it bordered on a grimace. 

\-----------------  
Now Anathema knew Aziraphale existed and she wanted him to go out with Crowley and Her. At least to find clothes, since all he had was Crowley’s clothes that he had accidentally bought in size too big.

They went to a thrift store thankfully and when he two living people looked away Aziraphale had made friends with three old women. They all spoke alike each other, and when Crowley found the blond again in the store, the blond held a few items of clothing and was talking about the best recipe for scones with three older ladies.  
Crowley looked incredulous and laughed to himself. Anathema wondered what was funny, but just watched. 

Aziraphale felt horrible that Crowley was spending money on him, but Crowley made enough money to live with three people, and since Aziraphale didn't really need a lot to live, he wanted to at least have the angel dress in clothes that were his own. 

that night Anathema joined them for dinner. Aziraphale made food and made two plates up.

“Uh, Aziraphale, there are three of us.” The woman reminded but Aziraphale looked at her and smiled.

“Oh I’m not hungry.”

Anathema looked suspicious but nodded. He sat at the table with the two, instead of his usual spot on the couch. he put away leftovers and cleaned, both of the alive people wanted to help but he had told them very strictly, that he would take care of it.

Somehow it was late when they realized the time. Crowley had fallen asleep, and Aziraphale and Anathema talked avidly about literature. 

Anathema then left the flat with a smile and a wave. Aziraphale waved back and locked the door behind her.

\-----------  
Crowley was at his desk once more and suddenly he was thrown out of his thoughts. This was becoming a routine, he noted with a sneer.

The thud was the detectives hand, Anathema looked at him with a suspicious glare and he phone in her hand.

“So. What is he?”


	2. Part Two

Crowley looked at Anathema like she was crazy.

“What do you even mean?” he asked tiredly. Its been a long day at work.

She shoves her phone in his face like it was a hot potato. He held the phone and noticed it was a YouTube video, from a popular person with a few thousand subscribers. He stares at his coworker and friend of three years.

“Just watch.” she says coldly. 

The video starts and its a shot of Morosely Park. He notes that this was clear, almost like professional equipment. 

then it turns to him. He sees his profile easily on the screen. It was the same outfit he wore-  
Shit.

The video catches the sounds of him grumbling about something and then his pronounced curse. He knocks on the ice, and then it breaks. It caught him scrambling back for only a minute, and the head of Aziraphale pokes through the ice, and the camera begins to blur. One could make out the shape of Aziraphale pulling himself out of the watery grave.   
It doesn’t catch anymore of the exchanges words, just shows them walking off, and the grave’s ice melting the farther Aziraphale walks from it.

Shit.

He needs to first, discredit the video and get the owner to take it down.

It was titled: “Necromancy in the Park.”

“Witch le-”

“Crowley don't you dare lie to me.” She glares hard at him.

Crowley stands up and hands her the phone with a sigh, “Come on. Aziraphale should explain it with me.”

She followed him through the halls of the morgue and basement offices. They get into his car and he drives fast. How he didn't get pulled over and ticketed was a lucky miracle. Though he was always going this fast when he wanted to get home.

\--------------  
Aziraphale didn't notice the two enter, the sound of him stretching and his body popping grotesquely covered the sound of the door opening. 

Anathema looked sick at the sound of his jaw and neck popping. He turns and jumps near a foot off the ground. He places a hand over his heart and takes a large breath. As if he needed it. Though it was comforting.

“Aziraphale someone videoed you crawling out of your grave.”

Aziraphale, having now heard about the 21st centuries technology and interesting inventions, pales. He goes so pale he looks as dead as he should be. His eyes seem to glass over in panic and they can see the blue veins in his neck.

“We have to tell her.”

The dead man nods and exhales, taking a seat on the couch. Anathema is sat across from it in a chair, and Crowley is siting in his signature chair, slouching like he owns the place. Which he kinda does.

“Would you like to tell her?” Crowley asks carefully, and Aziraphale nods. 

He takes a deep and unneeded breath to steel himself, “I am Aziraphale Arch. I was murdered by my brother in 1875. I was a missing persons until the 1950′s where they closed the case unsolved. I died in Morosely park and I was dead for 144 years. One day I wake up from my death to a knock on my ice topped bed.  
I broke out, and the rest is on the video. Crowley took me in and here we are.”

Anathema listened, her face betraying many emotions as she seemed to be processing the information. She almost opened her mouth to say that was impossible, but she was a witch, and really that was hypocritical. She watched him carefully. He had become mostly human looking after the explanation.

The only give was the eyes, but they also could mean he was slightly blind. With the reading glasses he wore it could be an explanation.  
Finally she let her curiosity consume her, she looked at his aura.

That was a mistake.

It was huge, beautiful and spectral. It was gold and white with a cracked piece in-between places that corresponded to his heart and lungs. There were silver chains around the aura, holding it hostage. 

She gasped as she felt something hit her.

Crowley had slapped her? He looked stressed, he was holding her up, from where she probably almost fell off her seat. A warm hand was on her shoulder. It was nice, but it almost was too warm to be human. Aziraphale was there, that was his hand.

“You weren't breathing.” Crowley explained, he looked scared and worried. she felt bad that she had worried him.

She took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry Aziraphale.”

“For what dear girl?”

“There is something wrong with your aura, it was like you're chained to life.” She chocked out

He hummed, “well, I ateast made friends, so its not terrible. Imagine if I had been woken up by someone with common sense.” he chuckled.

“Oi, I resent that! I’ll have you know I was very stressed at the time, you had crawled out of ice and water in the negatives.”

Anathema laughed softly. She was fine. This was her friend, she mostly trusted his judgement, and Aziraphale... He became a friend over time, he was nice enough and a funny bastard with terrible fashion taste and outdated slang. They were all friends.

The night ended with Crowley and Anathema and Aziraphale learning that dead people can drink wine and they all got spectacularly drunk. 

\----------------  
Aziraphale was wandering while Crowley was out, the redhead wanted him to see the outside world anyway. And Aziraphale did enjoy walking in the biting cold air, felt nice in his not essential lungs. He found himself in a park, not the one he had died in, but a park. It was nice, not many people. He didn't exactly want to meet or talk to any new people at the moment. It would be a disaster either way.

He hummed looking at the weird new things around. He was staring at something particularly weird when he felt someone tap on his shoulder.

He turned, there was a man who stood taller than him. Maybe as tall of Crowley if he thinks about it.

“Is this you?” the man points to a blurry picture from the video. Aziraphale squints at the video and laughs.

“No, and that video would make stuffed chickens laugh dear.” He wanted to go back to walking alone.

“It’s not fake.” 

Aziraphale scoffed and turned to the guy, “Of course it is. Do you think the dead just rises up from the depths?” He sounded a little annoyed, which is perfect. If the guy just leaves him alone.

“I took that video.” the guy looks dead serious.

“Listen dear, I think you need to sit down.” He began to feel panic rise into his lungs. This fellow made the video?

This stupid 21st century technology makes existing as a newly risen dead man very hard. The man didn't seem to let up, he had his phone out like he was expecting Aziraphale to do something to prove that he was a ghost or somethin zombified creature of Hell.

Aziraphale shied away from the phone. He could use some help from Crowley right now, or even Anathema. He started walking away in a brisk speed, holding the coat closer to his body in an attempt to hide himself away from prying eyes.

He was being followed. What does one do when they are being followed around this time? Should he run home? Home? Is that what he is thinking of the redheads flat as? Well he cant go there since he would have to walk in the opposite direction, and he did not want to face the guy. Or lead him to Crowley’s flat. that would be a little rude.  
He didn't now where anything was anymore, so he walked farther, as the guy behind him was bugging him about things. He wasn't listening, it would have given the weird videographer something to make into a story.

He saw something and turned to see an automobile that looked like a police car. he wanted to wave it down but he suddenly felt like he shouldn't. 

Never mind that, the car stopped by him anyway.

Anathema!

“Azira? Who is this guy?”

“I don't now my dear, he has been following me since the park.” The guy stopped and looked scared to be facing a police officer.

“Get in.”

He did, sitting in the front seat next to her, and she started driving again.

“That was the, what do you say? Youtuber? That took the video.” He said quietly, watching the man run the opposite way.

“Oh.” The rest of the drive was quiet and she stopped in front of her workplace. She parked and started leading him through the offices. He felt awkward as she ushered him downstairs. He saw Crowley at a seat behind a metal desk holding files. He looked up as soon as someone entered his domain.

“Crowley, Azira was being followed. You deal with him, I have to get back to work.” She rushed off before Crowley could open his mouth to ask a question.

“What happened?” He asked, carefully thumbing through some files. He looked chagrined to be messing with them. 

“I was in the park, and the one fellow who videoed the grave incident was following me around trying to do something. I don’t know what he would have accomplished but.”

Crowley nods and give him soft eyes under the sunglasses, “Go chill out on the couch back there.”

Aziraphale nods his assent and walks over to the couch, laying his head on his palm. Soon enough watching the office and Crowley move made him feel tired. He fell asleep on the couch.

Crowley looked over to the corpse and saw that he had fallen asleep. He smiled a little, but don't let his coworkers know that, he wouldn't live it down. Aziraphale was, in a weird way, adorable. He had lovely hair, and was always dressed immaculately, if a little outdated. The way he delighted in reading and cooking and human delights made Crowley feel weird in a nice way.

He snapped out of whatever happened that second and winced. He was also very dead. 

He cannot have a fucking crush on a dead guy.

Goddammit is that gross?

He should not even be thinking that way. Nope. He went upstairs to grab something to eat from the lunchroom and hoped to clear his mind. Leaving Aziraphale to peacefully nap on the couch.


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You cant keep secrets from someone you work with

Dagon hummed and walked down to the office and see Crowley’s desk empty. He’s probably upstairs being a weirdo, she thinks to herself. Wasn’t her business either way. She clicks her tongue at the state of his desk. What a messy guy.  
The rest of the office is fine expect- oh fuck is that a dead body on the couch?

Why is there a body of the couch. What the fuck is Crowley doing when she's not here? Did a guy just die on their couch while chilling? This is going to be so much paperwork.  
She walks over to the couch and sees that he is not moving or breathing. She touches his face, and shivers. Its fucking cold! like someone took a water bottle out of the freezer or something. How long was this guy dead for and how the shit is he in this area. He wasn't there last night.

Dagon will not be able to pick this guy up without jostling him around and probably spilling his decomposed innards everywhere. How the shit is he so intact, he feels like he has been dead and in the ground for a month. Of course she gets paid the lowest amount of an ME salary and she has to deal with a psychopath as a coworker or something. Though good on her freak of a coworker if he hid being crazy for three years of working here.

She sighs and goes to do roll a cadaver table over and somehow gets him onto it. She didn't even move him to badly. It is way lighter than what she expected but its better on her. Wait is he fucking hollow?

No he has some weight to him. Dagon is just freaking herself out, and she zips the body bag over him. She needs to talk to Crowley once he gets down. Maybe she could go and yell at him about the fucking body on the couch. He might loose his job, but if Dagon is finding corpses around the office there is a big problem.

No she will wait. 

\------------  
She didn't have to wait long. Crowley was downstairs looking like he was looking for something.

“Crawly why the fuck was there a corpse on the couch?”

Crowley looks at her confused, ‘There wasn't a dead body on the couch?” He looks over and then his eyes widened.

”Fuck Aziraphale! Dagon where did he go?” He looked frantic.

Dagon scowls in disgust, “In a body bag where the dead belong Crowley are you mental? You on first name basis with the preserved cadaver?"

Crowley stands up suddenly very serious, “Dagon where did you put the bag?”

“Why the hell should I tell you? So you can find your fucking dead body toy?"

“Please Dagon This is fucking serious!”

Something feels wrong, he looks frantic, scared for something. She knows its probably fear of loosing his job, but something pokes at her, that he’s scared about something else.  
She walked him over to the table and he opened the bag. He looked petrified but took a breath.

“Zira wake up.” Dagon feels like he finally lost his marbles, but then she laughs at the faces he is making. Its the kind of laugh you make when you're worried and feeing award.

“Aziraphale wake up, you scared Dagon sleeping on the couch.”

Her laughter is cut short by a popping noise. Oh fucking god. The corpses eyes just opened. He rubbing at his eyes blearily, his shoulders making disgusting crackling noises and he looks dazed.

“Crowley? Where?” He rubs his face with both hands and then looks around.

“Am I in a body bag?” he asks calmly.

And Dagon screams.

\---------------  
A hand clamps over her mouth, “Shut up. I’ll explain just stop screaming.”

She stops, and Crowley has let her go, her eyes are watching the walking dead man slowly stretch and get up. He looked sheepish like he was sorry for scaring her.

“Sorry dear, I sleep like the dead.” he joked and Crowley throws him an unamused look. The blond rubs the back of his neck.

“Explain.” She demands.

Crowley looks like he is thinking, “he has a condition?”

Dagon slaps him, “I'm not stupid Crowley. he was cold and not breathing. Light as a hollow box and very stiff. That was a dead body five minutes ago.”

Crowley rubs at his face with a uncomfortable look in his eyes, “What do you want me to say Dagon? I don't really know how to explain other than he is not dead.”

The corpse, that was what the blond was in Dagon’s mind, bit his lip. She wondered how fast someone would come and find her if this corpse ended up being a zombie. This is batshit crazy. He was dead. Now he looked perfectly fine, other than his blurry eyes, which could just mean he’s slightly blind.

Crowley and the corpse looked at each other, and Crowley seemed to loose the exchange.

“I can try to explain best I can. But please don't ell anyone. You have to swear.” Something about his voice sounded older than her, even though he looked younger. It was like talking to something hiding its true age.

“Fine. I wont tell anyone what happened in this room. Unless you're a zombie.”

The blond’s head cocked and Crowley snickered.

“Ok. My name is Aziraphale Arch. I died in 1875-”

“No fucking way.”

“Language.”

Dagon rolled her eyes but watched him intently.

“I must assure I’m telling the truth. Well, one day after flying someone knocked on the ice over my grave and then I crawled up. Now I'm alive again, or alive adjacent.” He finished carefully. 

“Don’t worry, he doesn't eat, let alone any human flesh. I’ve lived with hi for a while so I think I'd notice if he did.”

Aziraphale blanches, “why on earth would I eat people. That sounds unpleasant.”

Crowley snickered. Dagon was still trying to wrap her head around it.

“So you let a corpse follow you home?”

“uhh,,” Crowley gives a stupid looking smile, like he’d been caught doing something stupid, “yeah.”

Dagon does not look surprised this time and its Aziraphale's turn to snicker. He looks alive.  
Well. Now she has to know all of the details.

\-------------  
Now three people know of Aziraphale and his secret. He has three friends, and a problem. The dude from the YouTube, was always scouting around in the parks like he was on a mission. Aziraphale steered clear of the parks from then on, which was a downer. Somehow Dagon had joined them for their weekly get togethers, she began by wanting to test out Aziraphale’s abilities, and he even let her monitor his death sleep. Then they drew her into a friendship with wine and a terrible fish joke. She was particularly partial to fish. 

“Crowley what are those gas pipes?!” Dagon was laughing her ass off, and Aziraphale was looking horrified at Crowley’s pants. Anathema hid her sniggering into her cup, and Crowley was defending his tight pants with an honor only a knight could muster for the king.

“How do you work in those?”

“They’re not that hard to walk in!”

“Crowley! The way you walk testifies to those pants cutting off your blood flow to your legs.”

Crowley looks absolutely offended, Dagon and Anathema are clutching at each others shirts in laughter. Aziraphale has a look that is held only on a professor who went through years of college, but his degree is making fun of Crowley’s fashion style.

“Oi you staring at my ass when I’m walking?”

Aziraphale goes red and starts to stammer, Crowley is on the verge of needing a respirator as he laughs. The look of childish embarrassment doing him in.

They are all very drunk. 

\-------------  
Aziraphale has taken to being in the ME office with Dagon and Crowley. Most times he is watching with amazement at the new medical knowledge, or is enraptured in a book. Crowley wanted him near them more, since spotting the man with a camera near the flat. 

When nothing was happening Dagon would run some tests, all approved of by Crowley and Aziraphale, to see what happened on the inner workings of the living dead man. Turns out he is partly hollow, not having a stomach, liver, pancreas, appendix, half of his left lung, and large intestine. Which was weird , since he looks so plump and human, but they all disregarded it because this clearly was beyond weird. 

Dagon found that his blood wouldn't oxidize either, so it was all blue and it had the consistency of glittery slime. She threw up at that, but just filed it away for later.  
Aziraphale was sitting in the office couch with a book when someone came downstairs. He didn't notice them enter. When he did look up it was because someone was looking at him. He met eyes with a man in a nice outfit. He looked like he worked there.

“Who are you and why are you in the Medical’s Office?” the man asked with the driving force that Aziraphale attributed to police work.

He out his book down carefully, “Aziraphale, pleasure to meet you. I'm friends with Crowley?”

The man looks him over and rolls his eyes, “Alright, where are the Doctors?”

Aziraphale pointed up the stairs. Something about the mans stare made him uncomfortable. He let out an unneeded breath as the man left up the stairs, holding his book closer. He should probably hang around less if people just walk around in and out. Too many questions.

He gets up, keeping his jacket close to him and walked out of the backway, so he wouldn't be accosted by questions. 

The chill felt nice, he hummed to himself. Biting cold nipped at his eyelids and he took a breath. Once he got to the flat he could use the homophone and call up Crowley and tell him he had left. And ask about the unsettling man with black hair, that was something he should do when Crowley got home.

For now he was left with his thoughts. He enjoyed the company he kept. His three living friend here delightful, and he was thankful that he had been found by someone who overlooked that he came straight from the ground. The life he had in the 21st century was better than the one in the 1800′s. That may be because he had people who wanted him here.

Aziraphale knew that if he went off and disappeared that... they would look for him right? Yeah. He had no doubt they would.

Crowley. The red head was on his mind often enough. He was nice and brought Aziraphale to live with him. As much as the other hated to admit it, the cool and chill exterior was to hide that he really was good and nice. He was sweet.

Aziraphale’s mind kept going to the box of things that he would not let out ever. Like how he enjoyed alone time with his friend, or how he did notice the way his hips moved so. He had caught himself looking closely at the man as he raised a glass of wine to his lips. 

No, no matter if it was accepted, he couldn't do that. Crowley was alive. And Aziraphale, he was... not.

Its not like he could do anything significant with him. Aziraphale is closing in on 200 years, and no one knew he was alive. He had been seen a few times, but as a face in the crowd. He had no birth certificate or social security. He practically didn't exist in the world.

Still. A corpse could dream.


	4. Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being mostly dead has some side affects...

Crowley was freaking out. Luci showed up to his table in the break room, which he usually didn't use but Anathema wanted to have lunch, and he quite loudly told Crowley that no one other than the ME staff was allowed in the downstairs examination room. Crowley nodded carefully, and Luci told him once more, that he would be working a serial killer case with Anathema.

The serial killer cases are the worst, he thinks to himself. They take longs nights and horrifying deaths. he works with the bodies, but he always feels a little sad for the innocents he has to look over.

Then when he got back downstairs he saw that Aziraphale had left. His book was still on the couch but it seems that he had gone out the back. He looked around the office and he was no where to be seen.  
\----------  
Said dead man was still wandering in the direction of the flat. Until he was stopped. The fucking camera guy again. He was annoyed that he could actually say something he well regrets. Or maybe he will do something he regrets. Like punch him or start a public fight. He didn't know but he very much tired of this already.

“Leave me alone!” he snarled into the camera, “I will call the cops.”

The bluff had not scared the man off. Aziraphale didn't even have a phone. He turned and tried to walk faster, but he was still getting accosted by the questions and probing and asking. Were humans always so persistent, or did he just attract that kind of folk? 

“What are you!” he is asking.

“I saw you out in the woods. You cant run from me I know the truth!”

Aziraphale is a polite man, he puts up with lot, in his life before and his life now, he usually let other people decide and tell him what to do. He was not a pushover but he enjoyed not being in control. When someone annoyed him he just dealt with it.

Right now he was feeling colder and colder, but it wasn't in a way he thinks is uncomfortable. it felt nice. Tendrils of ice cold pinches travelled up his legs and into his chest.

He turns, a hand grabbing onto the expensive camera, and he feels the metal crush in his hands. He wont be able to use any of that will he. Oh, he was bleeding. the other man dropped the camera like it bit him. The handles where starting to freeze over.

How did he do that? 

He dropped the camera feeling a little dazed, but he turned to the man who looks devastated, “When someone tells you to leave them alone politely, you do as they say.”  
He looks at the broken and shriveled pile of frozen metal and takes a deep breath, his breath is coming out as smoke. His palm is bleeding blue and glue like. With that he leaves, suddenly very worried about what he did, and how to explain it to Crowley.  
\------------'

Crowley hears the front door open and sees Aziraphale looking pale and afraid, he runs to him and shakes him by the shoulders.  
“Where the hell where you?”

He stopped shaking as he saw his friends breath coming out in puffs of smoke. The skin under his hands are cold, and he sees Aziraphale’s eyes are wide and unseeing.  
“What happened? he asks more softly, leading the dead man to the couch. 

“I was being followed again, by the videographer he does not know when to bugger off, and he kept yelling questions, and I- I turned and destroyed his camera with one hand. And it started to freeze over.” He is shaking but Crowley does not know what to do.

He had to take in the information. Aziraphale had stood up for himself, but he was bleeding and had just proved that there was an effect of being part dead. He froze a camera.  
It seemed like his silence made Aziraphale shake more, but Crowley pat him. The touch calmed the tense corpse and he felt the unnatural heat under his palm. Crowley felt a sudden rush of fondness, but only let the other breath deeply and calm himself down. 

“That's alright angel. I think he will take the hint now.” In reality Crowley thinks that this may spur further investigation from the man, but he knew better than to say that to the poor blond. He seemed horrified that he could do such a thing.

Aziraphale finally looked back to normal and let out an exhausted sigh. Crowley sat him down on the couch, letting him get comfortable. He went to grab something for him to do to keep his mind off of what happened. When he arrived back into the room Aziraphale was curled in on himself and sleeping soundly. He knew that because no pseudo breaths or movement showed. He covered the blond with a blanket and sighed.

He would have to text the girls.

\----------  
Anathema answered first, via a knock on his door. She was there in under ten minutes, which means she broke so many laws. The witch might have been considered a felon with how many speeding tickets she could have gotten. Dagon was behind her by about three minutes. Both were looking frantic and untensed slightly seeing Aziraphale curled into himself on the couch.

They both sat down, while Crowley slumped in his chair. 

“Think we could file a police report?” Dagon asks offhandedly from behind her hands.

“That would work if the person he was following was recorded in the state, but he practically doesn't exist. I cant do anything.” Anathema groans miserably.

Crowley watches his friend sleeping peacefully on the couch and sighs. This was a problem and a lot of work. In the back of his mind he wishes that things were back to normal, but the other part knew that it would feel wrong now. He would miss the other too much, he had become a friend to the red head.

The three sat and tried to come up with something to fix the situation and ended up all drinking out of stress. 

They really had tp stop doing that. Alcoholism isn't a joke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry.... for making Aziraphale struggle...


	5. Part Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was mostly just to giv some context to the world and add some cute details.

Crowley sat in his office, waiting to get the call from Anathema to get his ass up there and help her. He hated serial killer cases. Why Luci only gave him those cases was a testament to how much the man probably hated his guts. His damnation for being in the field filled with death and such. The damnation came in the form of a tall, handsome, cocky piece of shit boss. Luci and Almigh ran the place well, he just was pissed about being involved in the worst cases to ever be cased.

The call came and he went to Anathemas cubicle of files and books and letters. It was a mess, even worse than his desk downstairs. She was holding a stack of notecards that looked ages old, and her pen was scrambling through the pages of a book like she was on her last life line.

“Oi book girl, we have somewhere to be.” She looks up at him and he sees the theories crowding her head. He pushed his sunglasses up farther and gestures for her to get up.  
She waves a hand at him to hold on and she makes a call to her boyfriend downstairs. 

“Tell Newt I said hi.” He says nonchalantly.

“He says hi back.” She continues to have a quick conversation with the file manager and he taps his foot. He didn't want to be at the crime scene anymore than he wanted to be dead, but the faster he looks at the body and understands the reason they can call in the profiler Agnes.

The faster Agnes gets involved the faster the case would be finished. He would be the first to say that she was a nutter, but also a genius. She knew serial killers and seemed to know exactly what happened, as if she could see the future or some shit.

She was also Anathema’s grandmother, so he knew some of that crazy went to her. That wasn't a complaint, her being crazy is the reason they are friends, but sometimes she says something that just catches him up. He usually has to blink, reroute his brain, and let the comment pass.

After her goodbye to Newt he groaned, “Anathema come on.’

“Hold on you impatient demon. I’m going.” She gets up and they walk to the parking lot.

“I’m driving.’

“Absolutely not Crowley.” She says and walks to her car. He groans again but gets into the passenger seat.

His slouch was pronounced as he grouchily strapped into the ride.

\-------

Once there he slinks out of the car and is at the body before Anathema even unbuckles.  
Shit. This is gruesome.

“Yeah the eyes were removed post mortem. He drowned to death poor bastard.” He yells over to Anathema, and he writes it down on his notepad. Carefully he looks around to see if anything else had been done, and he saw silver bells tied to the victims finger.  
He heard the cameras flashing and taking pictures and he sighed. This was sad.

“Identity?”  
Anathema had sidled up next to him, and he wondered what this guy did to deserve this.

“Aaron Fisher, age 25. He was single and worked in finance.” Crowley replies carefully. He had gotten the digital file and he rolled his shoulders.

Anathema nods and then he was there alone, Anathema was off back to her car, forgetting about him in her rush to find more details. This was not the first time it had happened so he just resigned himself to catching a ride with the guys carrying the body back. They knew this happened and had offered to take him back.

Once ack in the examination room he noticed nothing new about the body, and he wondered if the witch even called Agnes in her rush.

He dialed the phone number.

“Agnes, did Ana call you yet about the latest vic or is this the first you've heard about it.”

“You know this is the first I am hearing about it. Tell me the details snake and send a digital case copy.”

“Yeah yeah I know the drill.” he hung up and the woman before she could talk about blessings and such. If the profiler had anything important he would expect an email.

He sent the folder with attachments of his thoughts and observations. She didn't than him and he didn't think about it further before moving the body to where it is supposed to be.  
He put up his hair and took off his gloves and medical coat before going upstairs. First to check o Anathema and make sure she wasn't arrested or got in a wreck. 

When he saw that she had made it safely to the filing room, muttering circles around her poor boyfriend who had zero clue of what was going on, he walked back upstairs for the second thing.

He needed coffee if he wanted to get through the rest of the day. He was already tired and slightly hungover.

\------------

Aziraphale woke up and stretched, popping all dislocated and stiff joints back into place with a roll of his body. He saw the blanket over him and smiled, bringing it closer to him.  
Looking around he noticed it was 1 in the afternoon. He must have been out for a while.

The TV was on and he turned to see what was happening on it and found it playing a movie. He didn't entirely know how to work a TV so he let it play. Soon his eyes drew to something.

Oh. The movie was interesting and he sat curled up and watched it.

At the end he cried a little. You can't blame him it was such a bittersweet ending!

After wiping the cold tears off his face he got up and hummed the tunes from the movie he watched. As he cooked he tapped his foot in time to the humming, as he made something for Crowley to come home to. 

The door opened when he was almost finished with the food but he didn't notice over the sound of the stove and his own humming.  
“Angel is that a song from The Corpse Bride?”

“Oh is that the name? It was such a delightful little movie! It was paying when I woke up and I didn't now hoe to turn off the television so I gave it a chance.” He rambled a little, before finishing the task of plating food.

“Here you are dear.”

“Thank you.” Crowley replied tiredly and slumped in his chair at the table. He looked so exhausted that the blond didn't even have the heart to scold him for the posture.


	6. Part Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some wholesome, some action. Plot that isnt about Azira? more likely than you think

Crowley woke up to humming from the other room, which wasn't unusual. Aziraphale had taken rather fondly to Tim Burton films that played randomly on the TV, so he could hear a rather lovely rendition of the jazzy song from the Corpse Bride. 

He could smell food and got up with a stretch. He didn't remember going to bed last night, and he realized that he had fallen asleep at the table. Aziraphale must have carried him back. Crowley noticed his shoes had been taken on and placed carefully by the foot of his bed, and his coat and scarf had been hung up.

He felt a flood of fondness and tried to shove the feelings down. He was still caught up on feelings for a guy who wasn't dead, but was. The red head looked in the closet and found a nice outfit and changed, not even closing the door in his tired state. He turned and saw Aziraphale blinking a few times, a blue tinged blush on his face, and he turned back  
around promptly. 

Whoops...

He walked out of the room and chuckled awkwardly, “Uh sorry, I should-”

“I- sorry for-”

They had stumbled over the words at each other and caught the others eyes in their own. That sent them into spiraling laughter, built by months of fond friendship and a small hint of being a bastard. 

Aziraphale calms down, having a soft smile still on his face, “Foods on the table.” He gestured and Crowley snickered.

“Alright Mother.” He groused back.

He heard the mock offended gasp and he snorted some orange juice, which made him cough and choke a little.

“Hey don't you dare die!” Aziraphale calls, before turning on the sink to wash the dishes.

“I’ll do as I please angel!” he called back, before clearing his throat and scarfing down his food. He heard a clicking of a tongue and he looked indignantly up at Aziraphale and huffed. The blond rolled his eyes.

“Clean your plate before leaving dear.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, cleaning the plate and putting it in the dishwasher. 

While in the car his mind wandered to the idea of moving around somethings in some rooms and giving Aziraphale his own room. He had slept sometimes and the couch must be uncomfortable. He would enlist Dagon’s help, she had lived with her interior designer dad, so she would be able to snatch an aesthetic that wasn't his favored Minimalistic.  
He was already thinking of what to put and how to surprise the blond before he realized he was already at work. 

He got a call before he even left the car.

“Body.” He caught the address and restarted his car. Shit. This killer was cocky if he killed so soon after the third body appeared just yesterday.

This was going to be a long day. He hoped that he could at least catch a shower before dropping dead in his flat tonight.

\----------

He stared at the body. Silver bells tied to the fingers. Definitely the same killer, since the detail hadn't been released to the public yet. This time it looked like the guy struggled, a single sab wound in his stomach showed that the killer was likely annoyed with the resistance. No one else would know that all too telling sign. He wondered what they would call this one, if the reporters caught word.

He hated reporters.

Same method as last time. Anathema was next to him now, and he wondered when she learned to teleport, or where she had gotten her ninja degree, because the sure don't hand those out at law school.

“Agnes called me. She's got a feeling about the kind of killer.”

“Cool. Good. That's all your jazz book girl.” He muttered back, he wasn't feeling his all that day. no matter how good a morning, his mood always went down seeing another case in the same file. 

“You’re going to accompany me on a few trips.”

He looked at her with a confused sneer, “I’m not a travel companion witch.”

“Luci sad you’re working with me, and I am not going into any situation without tall intimidation.’ He groans, but finally, at her piecing look, nodded his assent.

“I know you're capable without me. Where are we going?”

“Joni's Bar. Profile says the killer has a specific type.”

The groan this time was loud enough to catch the attention to the police surrounding them, “You’re using me as bait?!”

“Yep!” she popped the p. He should have known he wouldn't ever need him as intimidation, seeing as he was lanky and his only intimidating thing is his messed up eyes.

“Fine,” he slumped, “I’ll meet you there.”

He swaggers to his car, and slams his forehead on the steering wheel with a hiss. When did he get dragged into this shit regularly. Anathema always had creative and horrible ideas, and he usually loved the convoluted plots they weave, but he also did not like being the bait for a highly aggro serial killer who DROWNS people. 

After hearing one experience of death via drowning, he had had his fill of water death. He did not want to the be the next waterlogged bastard. Also silver bells don't fit his aesthetic and it would be a shame if that was ruined after he died.

Leaning on the doorway he saw Anathema pull into the parking lot he waved his hand up to her. She walked to him and handed him the wire tap, which he adjusted without fuss. He was good at hiding any clothes adjustment from years of wearing tight clothes that leave zilch to the imagination. 

“What a shite taste in guys, whoever this killer is.” He mumbles to Anathema.

“You’re insulting yourself there Anthony.”

“Shut up.” 

They sat at the bar and both ordered something to drink, nothing alcoholic because they were still on the job.

While Anathema started to walk around and talk to people, leaving the red head alone, Crowley sat on his phone. He was still working, since he knew if he slacked Luci would tear him a new one, and he hated having to talk to that guy.

He texted Anathema, telling her that this was a waste of time and how she should let him go back to work. She texted back with a rolling eyes emoji, which he scoffed at. His next text said that she should wait until night, because that's when someone's going to kill another person. Murder in the middle of the day was never done unless the one doing the killing was crazy.

She texts him telling him to meet her here at 9 and no later. He took the dismissal with glee and went back to his car.

As he drove back to work he categorized all the things he had to do that day. Pushing his sunglasses up farther he took his keys and went inside.

\-----------

Aziraphale went to a local market, if only to distract himself from the lack of books he hadn't already read in the flat. It was nice out and he enjoyed the rare sun almost as much as he enjoyed the frost. Humming he looked at the food and art that he saw, realizing that he would have to take the three living friends here one day. 

He enjoyed the day and the people watching. His place on the bench was to the side, so that no one would try to sit too close, as they had no reason to.

Getting up he felt someone run into him, a kid had accidentally run into him and his friends had skidded to a stop so they wouldn't do the same.

He smiled at them and waved off the apologies, telling them not to run into anyone not as sturdy as him. The seeming leader nodded. Aziraphale noticed they had no adults and his thoughts had told him that usually one does not leave their kids unattended in such a big place.

“where are your parents?”

The sole girl looked at him with a tall attitude, “My mother runs the shop over there.” He looks to where she is pointing and is trying to think of what that person sold.

“Ah of course, forgive me.” He hums and goes to leave, but the kids stop him.

“We haven't seen you round here before.” The leader says bravely, and Aziraphale hums.

“I’m quite new, just moved here.”

The boy took this with a nod, and he chuckled a little. Kids where weird any century you are in. He nods a goodbye to the kids, “Have good luck on your adventures.”

He hummed and went back his way to the flat. The walk was nice and quiet. The man with the camera had not shown his face around the area and he was pleasantly surprised. With that he sat on the couch, and took a nap, because for some reason, he felt very tired. Though it was probably because he had been walking for several hours. 

\----------

Crowley went home at 8, to change and put the wiretap in a more appropriate place. he had more time to be ready, after he showered.

Aziraphale looked at him with a smile, “Going out?”

Crowley groans and flops next to the other man, “Anathema is using me as bait for her case.”

Aziraphale looks perturbed by the idea and his smile displaces itself into a frown, “Please do be careful. I don't know if you cant pull the same trick as I did. I would hate for you to get hurt.”

Crowley smiles back at him, “Ah I think you’d just miss me not paying for the flat.”

The joke gets him a swat to the thing closest to Aziraphale, which happened to be his leg, “I mean it you fiend.”

He sees the small smile and nods, “yeah yeah, I’ll live. If I don't come pull me from my grave.”

Hearing a snort, he takes that as a win. When he gets up he stretches and walks to the door.

“I will hopefully be back before a godless hour of the night!”

“Be safe!” Crowley smiles a little to himself. Its been a while since he’s felt like someone genuinely cared about him. Yes he was now close with Anathema and Dagon, they are different. Aziraphale tried so hard to help and to make sure he lived well. It made him feel a little warm. 

Anyway, he got to the place and saw Anathema was there already.

“Why this place anyways?” He asked, his voice low as they entered the bar.

“The other victims frequented his place, its our biggest lead.” She whispered.

“Other victims, Ana you sound like you have no faith in me.” the comment was meant to be funny, but he felt his stomach drop. He sat at the bar and ordered a drink. 

He would only have one, and he kept himself to that limit. Anathema moved away and he went to a booth in the back. If a killer was coming for another victim then they would want them to be isolated. Anathema was still in eye distance, and she watched him as he played nonchalant. 

“Hello. I haven't seen you before.” The voice purred, and something in Crowley twisted.

“Heard good things about the bar. Usually don’t go out much. No one to go with.” Without realizing it, he had painted himself as a perfect next victim. Anathema looked pleased and a little worried for him.

The man stopped and Crowley felt eyes on him. He looked from his phone, setting it carefully into his pocket.

“You’re too cute to be alone.” He said, and Crowley laughed awkwardly.

“Well It seems I’m not alone anymore.” He commented and took a sip of his drink. even if this wasn't their killer, he very much wanted this guy to go away. Was this even going to work?

The killer might take it easy and he is getting hit on by a dude for no reason other than to be uncomfortable. 

It was convenient that he was the killers type, and he was near the sight of the bodies, and that he was getting creeped out. His gut never lied.

“You look uncomfortable Red, you want to get out of here?” he asks, a mix of flirtation and something else in his voice. 

Crowley looked up and caught Anathema’s eyes. She nodded at him and he remembered hat she heard everything.

“Yeah, sure. I’m heading to my place, feel free to come along.” He wondered how bad of a decision this was, but is friend was gesturing for him to continue. He hoped this didn't and up getting messy or that he would get murdered. He would be pissed if this hairbrained scheme got him killed. 

He got up, and the guy licked is lips, “Lead the way.”

Crowley hid a shudder, and waked out of the bar. he didn't o for his car, not wanting to get to his flat faster. If he walked it was a longer gauge of the guy’s behavior.

God he wished he didn't have to do this. Ana owes him big time.

The guy was staring and then began to ask questions, ones that Crowley knew he wouldn't answer if on a first date. He wouldn't even ask if he wanted to hook up. But he never did either things so what was he to judge. 

“So, any roommates to worry about?”

Crowley’s brow quirks, “Nope. Why?”

The guys laughs and Crowley feels very uncomfortable. Anathema was following them! thank fuck. She always had a gun on her and she was the police in this situation. She had probably been calling for backup the moment he left the bar. Hopefully he doesn't get stabbed like a sack of meat!

His quietness has the other looking at him.

“You’ll be a quiet one wont you?” The man asks, sly joy in his voice and Crowley hums.

“I’m not a talker.”

They are at the stretch of path in front of the park and he feels hands grab him. He struggles and kicks back on the man, “Get off!”

He breaks free and suddenly he knows fight or flight, and he is a flighty bastard. He hears footsteps behind him and he does not pay attention to anything but running away, and coincidentally he is running to his flat. 

“Oh you are going to be difficult?” The man says, his voice still a low purr. He swallows and runs faster, his lungs are burning and he has forgotten that Anathema is behind them in a cop car. The killer hasn't noticed though, the thrill of the chase and the frustration building in his ears while the blood roars.

He leaps up the stairs and flings open his flat door, thankful to God he left it unlocked. He tried to shut it but the guy has already wretched it open, and he sees the glint of steel.

“AZIRAPHALE!”


	7. Part Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I-- no explaination. I love Adam

Crowley closes his eyes, because really he has accepted his death via knife or drowning. He hears the airy noise of the knife slashing through the air and felt nothing.

Then he heard the sound of rustling fabric, not long after that the sound of something squelching. He opens his eyes and sees the handle of the knife sticking out of someone that is not him.

Aziraphale had a knife in his stomach and Crowley can see the slow way his skin got paler and blue started to haze around his eyes and mouth and nose. He gasped and then saw the other man on the ground scrambling around. Aziraphale took a knife for him and now is glaring down a serial killer.

The killer is shaking on the floor, eyes wide and he looks like he is praying.

Aziraphale looks mildly annoyed at the knife and pissed at the shaking man, “You should have prayed and gotten forgiveness long before beginning this business.”

The man looks up and tried to get out the door and is faced with Anathema. He gets up and run at her, she get ready to disarm him but he just looks horrified. He is begging her to put the cuffs on him, to take him away. 

She puts cuffs on him and the three uncuffed ones hear police sirens. Aziraphale goes still and then carefully uses the sleeve of his ruined sweater to take the knife from where it is buried in his abdomen. He throws the thing down and takes a breath.

“I think I need to leave before the police see me.” And Crowley nods slowly, pointing to the window. The blond nods, stiffly, and goes out the window. The thud on the ground tells them he got down and they see him disappear into the woods. 

The killer is shaking and looks at Crowley, “You! I should never have followed you Witch!”

“You shouldn't have become a serial killer either.” Anathema deadpans, and other officers are in the flat now. The killer is stammering about the monster. he had just stabbed something not human. The other cops take a look at her and ask if anyone was hurt. She shakes her head and points to him.

“No one was hurt, he had a psychotic break before getting to Crowley.” Said redhead was breathing heavily, staring at the open window and then at the killer, then at the knife.   
Crowley was worried. He hoped Aziraphale was alright. He took a knife for him. Aziraphale's blood was on the knife and he sucked a breath through his teeth and looked at Anathema. The slimy blue blood was on the knife and on the floor. Shit. He would have o get Dagon to help examine the body, she would need to know what was happening.   
She also wouldn't snitch. This was her secret as much as it was for the rest of them. 

\-----------------------

Aziraphale didn't feel the need to breath heavily. He took the overcoat of his outfit and wrapped it firmly around the oozing wound. Looking around he saw it was a very familiar clearing. His grave sat, watery and cold as ever, but only frosted over instead of iced. 

He sat next to it, his eyes looking up through the leaves, looking at the stars. He dipped his hand in the cold and sighed in relief. It was like aloe to his ho skin. Something clicked in his mind and he undid the knot keeping pressure on the wound and cupped water in his hand.

He groaned at the feeling, it was nice. He laid his head back on the trees trunk and listened to the woods ambiance. 

Footsteps.

He looked up alarmed and saw the kids from the market. Shit. Oh dear he was not in any shape to talk to them, they could see he was bleeding out and he didn't look human he knew it.

The kid looked at him, “Are you a zombie?”

He lets out a startled laugh, “No dear, I am not a zombie.”

The kid inches closer and he stays still, as to not scare them. 

“What are you then?” The boy with big round glasses asked. He bit his lip in thought.

“I don't quite know myself. I got myself in a pinch though.” Aziraphale cups another bit of water and pours it on himself. The skin starts to stitch together and the kids watch in amazement. He chuckles despite himself. 

“Now what are you kids doing out tonight?”

“We were playing werewolves.” The girl says proudly. 

“Oh, how fun.” He hums, he used to play games with his brothers as a kid. He kind of missed that joy. Now he knew his brother killed him and that happened forever ago. 

“What are yours names?” he asked curiously, “You have been watching me bleed out so shouldn't I know?”

“I’m Adam.” He looked like he thought what Aziraphale said was perfectly acceptable.

“I’m Pippin, but don't call me that or I’ll hit you.”

His head cocks to the side, “What do I call you then?”

“Pepper.”

“I'm Wensleydale, I don't think we should talk to you.” The shocks another laugh out of him.

“Well you have good sense, it’s dark and I am an adult.” He concedes

“Brian.”

He nods, “I’m Aziraphale.”

“So what happened to you?” Adam asks, sitting down across from him. The others sit down by the kid and he hums.

“Well how is that your problem?” He asks, sitting a little straighter.

“We found you hurt so now you have to tell us!” The kids were tenacious. He found that he didn't mind the company.

“Well my friend was about to get hurt so I stepped in front of him. Can’t let the police see me so I am out here.” Aziraphale puts his jacket back on, before scrunching his nose at his own blood on it. He was fine now but he didn't now when he could go back to the flat.

“You’re like a zombie hero then!” Adam says, with such devoted belief that Aziraphale finds himself inclined to smile and amuse him.

“I suppose so. Now, you all should get home. It is late and you don't want to get caught up with anyone wandering out at night.”

“We got caught up with you!” Pepper points out.

“Yes well, I am a zombie and I am not inclined to steal children. Off you go. Home. Its cold.” He shoos them, and then gets up. He makes sure the kids get out of the woods safely and then go to look at the flat. Police are still plaguing the place like locusts, so he resigns himself to sit by his open grave and thing about the weird kids he met.

\------------

Crowley looks at the hour and groans. It’s late and he wants Aziraphale inside safe, and he would like to know if the wound healed. He hoped it did. Is ok?

“Crowley. Don't worry.” Anathema has her hand on his shoulder and he is thankful for his friend. She was keeping him from saying anything suspicious and from falling asleep.   
The police take the knife and pictures, and he knows that there will be a story about this tonight because he sees reporters outside. Fuck. He hates reporters. They are like ants, and he does not need anyone to catch him slinking away into the woods to find his friend on film. He is tired of videos and cameras and everything. 

He goes out only to see the killer get taken away. The poor bastard is going to be called crazy for the rest of his life. Though Crowley does not feel bad about it since he had tried to kill him, and had successfully killed four other people. His sympathy was cut short by that shot and he sees a peek of blond hair. 

The redhead slowly leaves the crowd and escapes to the woods. He is searching through the trees and after a few minutes he stumbles almost into the grave. He is saved by a hand on his waist and chest. 

“Aziraphale!” He turns and hugs the blond, he had thought the dead man might have stayed dead this time. 

“Hello dear.” Aziraphale’s soft voice feels like soothing over a knot in your neck. He breaths out deeply and holds tighter.

“You got stabbed.”

“Well I am fine, you would not have been.” The man retorts Crowley thinks in the back of his brain that the hug has lasted too long, longer than friendly. Fuck that part of his brain, he is struggling to deal with the night.

“That is why I was not a detective or police officer.”

“And here I thought it was because you were too scrawny.” 

Crowley snorts into the fabric of the jacket, “That too.”

The other detaches himself, and tells the redhead about the children. Crowley thinks this is bad but Aziraphale seems very sure that the kids wont say anything. And who would believe them if they did, that they found a zombie in the woods? Just an active imagination, it would be brushed off. 

“Reporters are everywhere.” Crowley huffs. 

“I would imagine. They just caught a killer. This is hat serial killer case you told me about right?”

“yeah. Turns out he had a type, tall redhead men. So Anathema used me as bait and here we are.”

Aziraphale hums in understanding, “You can go back, its cold out here for you, I can tell.”

“Nah we can sneak back inside through the window. Up for building scaling?”

Aziraphale huffs and straightens his sweater, “I’ll have to be up for it if I want to sleep comfortably, so yes. That sounds like a plan.”


	8. Part Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This should be read as a dramcom. 
> 
> also a huge thank you to everyone commenting you guys are awesome and I love you

Aziraphale should have known that he would not be able to climb the building. He was not the most fit person alive, and he carried a little bit of weight to him, also there was no foot holds. The blond gestured.

“Well? Get up on my shoulders.”

“Wot no?”

“Listen you could reach it if you just stood on me like one of those weird cheerleading things on television.” 

“Aziraphale I will fall.”

“Oh don't you come at me with that, up you go. if you fall I’ll catch you.” he tapped his shoulders and kneeled. 

Crowley looked at him in the eyes, and at the annoyed clock of the blond’s tongue he stands shakily on the mans shoulder. he shakes a little and wobbles as Aziraphale slowly rises, but then sees the window is just out of reach. He groans and lays his forehead on the cold brick of the building.

Aziraphale huffs at him and holds his hands up higher and he looks at the dead man like he lost his mind.

“Don’t give me that look Crowley!” He whisper yelled and exaggerated his hand movement. 

“I am going to eat shit as soon as I step up.” Much to his chagrin, he does step up on the offered palms anyway. He could safely hoist himself up and while on the window sill he falls face first into the building with a loud thump and a noise of surprise. 

Below him he hears snickering and he glares out the window.

Aziraphale looks at the building and wonders if he could supposedly run up the bricks like in an action movie that Crowley was so fond of. Cant hurt to try.

He backs up slowly and sees the red head’s confused face, which them morphs into one of shocked glee as he runs full force at the building. With a leap he grabs a hold to the window sill.

And then falls onto his ass. 

Crowley is not even trying to hide his gleeful laughter, and Aziraphale huffs. He rears up to try again and runs. He runs up the building with three steps and his hand holds tightly to the sill this time. He pulls himself up with huffing breaths.

He does not fall face first into the floor like Crowley id no he took that as a win, though it could be argued falling down from the second story on his arse could make them even. He pats down his coat with a reproachful noise and looks at his dirty blood covered jacket. His sweater is torn at the abdomen and he sighs. 

“well dear boy. I think I need a nap.” 

Crowley nods his agreement, wiping joyful tears out of his eyes, and slumps.

“I need another shower.”

“I could say I need one too.”

They look at each other and Crowley blushes a little before saying, “We could rock paper scissors for who goes first?”

Aziraphale cocks his head, and this leads to an explanation of the children's decision game. He hums, agreeing to it.

Crowley looses and slumps to the couch.

“I have so much cleaning to do.” He grumbles into the cushions as he smashed his face into them in exhaustion. 

Aziraphale hums his agreement and grabs clothes from the little chest they got him for clothes. He pulls out some and spends exactly eleven minutes in the shower. Crowley is unaware of this as he had fallen asleep from the adrenaline crash.

Aziraphale hums and wonders what to do, should he wake him? Probably. Oh but the red head is so grouchy when he wakes up. The blond huffs and shakes the lanky man lightly, “Crowley? Shower.”

He gets a sleepy grumble for his efforts and smiles fondly, “come on up you get.”

“Don't wanna get up.”

“Crowley come up. If you don't wake up I will have to shower you myself, since you smell something awful.”

The sleepy man huffs, “noooo. I don’t caaaare.”

“What should I use to clean you? A pressure washer or runs you through a carwash?” Aziraphale asks slyly, his hand patting the red head’s back.

“mmgmmghhh.”

“You’re so difficult.” It was supposed to sound scolding but it came out more fond.

He wonders if he should put the man in the shower fully clothed, and see what happens. Then he felt bad for thinking that because his clothes! Then he wondered if he should just bath him as if he was a toddler but then flushes at the idea of the other man naked anywhere near him. Nope nope nope. Abort mission.

Crowley moves his head and looks at him with half lidded sleepy eyes.

“Alright fiend, shower. I’ll even run you a bath if you cooperate.”

Finally the red head rolls of the couch with a thud and sits up. he rubs his eyes and Aziraphale chuckles at the sight with exasperated adoration. 

“M up.”

“Good I thought I would have to roll you to the bathroom myself.”

The red head grumbles at him, but gets to his feet and give the blond a look that was meant to be a glare but ended up somewhere between thankful and annoyed. 

“So. You gonna run me a bath angel.” Crowley stretch's, giving a tired and good natured grin.

“Oh really.” Aziraphale huffs but goes tot he bathroom, he hears the other man say things along the lines of, ‘I was joking wait.’

He turns the bath and sees the redhead in the doorway leaning on it. 

“There you are. bath is being run. I am going to go nap on the couch you got dirty.” He shot the leaning man a look. Crowley looks away but looks not the slightly bit regretful.  
With a stretch Aziraphale gets up and heads to sleep on the couch.

\----------------

Crowley sat in the bath and smiled to himself. Everything was well, Aziraphale was fine, he was fine. Police and reporters have slowly left the premise, and he didn't have to go to work the next three days. 

Oh shit he needed to text Anathema and tell her Aziraphale is alright. That could wait until after his bath. He washed his hair carefully and let his mind wander. 

\--------  
Anathema was sitting in bed worried. Newt was over, and we was reading a textbook next to her while she sat and thought about the day. He wouldn't push her to tell him anything and she thinks that is why she loves him so much. She also wondered if she could ever tell him about what the hell she was up to with her job. It was now so entwined with questions about things that she didn't know the answers to.

Her phone buzzes and she leans and grabs it off the side table. oh. It was Crowley. 

Aziraphale is safe. 

She smiles at the text, but also feels something curl in her gut. She turned her phone onto the screen and left it on the nightstand. Newt is looking at her with a questioning look on his face.  
“Just Crowley checking in. He is doing alright after all that.”

Newt smiles, “I’m glad, it must have been scary.”

Anathema hums and wraps an arm around her boyfriends abdomen. It was satisfying ending in her mind but she felt a little guilty that she was the reason Crowley almost got stabbed. He didn't in the end, but he could have been. She had put a friend in the line of danger.

“Ana. Stop worrying, no one got hurt.” It was like Newt could read her mind. With a smile directed at him, she let herself fall asleep.

\----------

Newt does not ask questions. He is perfectly content to not know something that isn't directly affecting him or his life. Ignorance is bliss. Like he didn't enjoy hearing the dangerous police stories Anathema came home with. Every month they got scarier and scarier.

He knew she would be safe, she was a smart, independent, and strong woman. She could take down a crime syndicate when she wants to. But can you blame him for worrying. She went after serial killers, and he heard the story when she got home.

Newt didn't ask questions but that didn't mean he was unobservant. He noticed how Dagon and Anathema and Crowley had become close lately. He was actually very happy about that because he enjoyed knowing that she had close friends. 

But he was also concerned about some changes in behavior. He could tell when she left things out of stories. He knew her like the back of his hand by now and could tell when she had to think about how to edit a story. He was never worried about her doing something to betray his trust, he knew her better than that, But he was curious what was so secret that she hid it.

Newt smiled and pet Anathema’s hair. Though he was concerned right now, he knew that he was lucky to have her. He sat the book down on the side table and curled up to sleep.


	9. Part Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly fluff. I swear there will be more relevant plot things but, they all love each other so uwu

Crowley was examining a body when he got a call from Anathema.

“Yes?” He answered with a struggled hiss. He was busy.

“I wanted to apologize. For putting you in danger.”

He huffed, “Witch, I am fine. No harm no foul. Don't worry about it."

He hears Anathema let out a breath and he chuckles, “Now we both have a job to get to. If you would like I can see if Dagon wants to come over and we can all make a night of it.”  
Anathema laughs, “Yeah sounds good, I can bring my good alcohol.”

“Gonna hold you to that.” He huffed, “Now I have a body to cut open so!”

Crowley can practically hear her roll her eyes and hag up. He tosses his phone on the couch and continues his work. 

Dagon comes in because, speak of the devil and she appears. Her naturally frowning face was sat at her desk looking through files.

“Oi Dagon. You want to meet up with Azira and Ana after work at my place?” She looks up and nods.

That was that, and they both went back to their work with diligence. Crowley was wondering if Aziraphale would pick up the house phone or if he should go and tell him during his lunch break.

“So Crawly. When are you going to buck up and admit to Aziraphale?” Dagon says airily, like she hadn't just punched him in the gut so hard with her words that were he a Pokémon he would take 200 psychic damage. 

“Augh- uh- ngk- what?”

The red head rolls her eyes and pus her files down to sit like a supervillain, which Crowley felt suited her in this situation. And other situations, because being honest? She was a scary person.  
“Crawly, the witch and dead man might miss it, but I used to be a psychiatrist manager. I know these things.”

“Don't tell me you’re going to be another Agnes.” Crowley groaned, finishing up with the autopsy.

Dagon snorted, “No I'm not like that nutter, but I know emotions.”

“Didn't know you even knew that word.” That earned him an eraser to the forehead. God damn she had impeccable aim.

“Come on, spill the details to me. You’re mushy for this guy.” If he didn't know any better he might feel like a peer pressured teenage girl at a sleepover. How juvenile.

He was about to tell her to stuff it and where she could do so, until she shot him a look and he gave up on having dignity.

“Listen he’s sweet.” He grumbled.

Dagon grinned, “Oh come on there ought to be more.”

“I will not fuel your gossipy brain mush.”

“You will, you owe me for tampering with the Silver Bell killers knife.”

He huffed and threw down the used medical gloves into the bin, “Yeah yeah fine. For some reason he cares about me and is great company. He is funny and a bastard and it does not hurt that he’s unavoidably cute.”

Dagon clapped, “Wow you can use words!”

Crowley threw the earlier eraser back at her and missed horribly.

“Shit shot you got there!”

He sent a double bird at her and decided that he would go to his flat to tell Aziraphale for his lunch break. He ought to get him a phone, a flip phone at the least. It was exhausting to hope he would answer the home phone and when he wasn't home he couldn't contact him at all. 

He looked at the clock, five minutes till he could take the break.

“Hey.” It was surprisingly nice and understanding coming from Dagon, “You should go for it.”

Crowley looked at her and sighed, “what if he doesn't even like men Dag?”

Dagon snorted, “he is gay as a tree full of money on nitrous oxide. nothing to worry about in that category.”

“Well what if he doesn't feel the same? I’m not going to ruin our weird friendship.”

The look Dagon gave him made him feel like she was looking down on him. With that he left, without seeing her grin. She was planning something, and the room suddenly felt colder.

\----------

As he arrived to the flat he went up the stairs and walked into the living room, where Aziraphale is rereading a novel. He ought to take him out to buy some books. 

“Hey angel?”

The blond jumps a little but looks up and smiles, putting a bookmark in the pages and set the novel down.

“I invited Anathema and Dagon over, just wanted to give notice.”

The blond gave him a soft smile, “Thank you my dear.”

His heart beat a little faster and he gave a thumbs up and an awkward smile. Then he fled to the kitchen to grab some leftovers. 

Aziraphale watched confused but hummed. He wondered what he could do, maybe go for a walk after this chapter? It’s a nice day out, well for him at least, since he enjoyed the chill. he an return before seven and cook something for his alive friends. Yes that would be nice to do. 

\---------

Anathema arrives first, as she usually does when they plan get togethers. She smells something amazing and walks to the kitchen to see Aziraphale humming over the stove. He is making foods that pair with wine, which she holds in her arms.

“Hey Azira.”

“Oh hello dear. Would you try one of these, Crowley is being difficult.” She laughs as she hears a noise of resentment from the bedroom.

The redhead waltzes out with a mock scowl, “Angel you betray me.”

The blond giggled and pretends he is going to swat him with the spatula. Crowley yelps then realizes he was not about to be smacked and was being sniggered at by their resident witch.  
“Oi! Don’t get kinky on me!”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes, “I don't know what that word means my dear.”

Crowley looks stressed then and Anathema is pinching her lips into a line to try and hold her laughter. How did they always end up drunk and hysterical when they got together?   
Aziraphale huffs as Crowley is refusing to explain it and then he gets a real smack to the side of his arm. 

“You are being childish.”

“Says you.” Aziraphale intones.

The door opens and Dagon walks through, “Yall starting this without me. I'm wounded.”

Aziraphale turns and very seriously asks, “Yes hello dear, what does kinky mean?”

Dagon looks confused for a second then busts out laughing.

“It is a real question!"

He was met with laughter and a blushing Crowley. At least when it was over Dagon did explain, in great detail, to the horror of the male red head in the room. 

Aziraphale looked confused, intrigued, and disguised all at the same time, “Anyone who enjoys being hit is unusual and this is coming from me.” He says primly, while pouring wine into four glasses. 

At the moment is the only one steady enough to pour the wine because he was the only one who was being remotely serious in that moment. Dagon was cackling like the evil morgue witch she was, and Anathema was snorting like a pig.Crowley was blushing but still laughing a bit, even if at his own expense. He could never keep his mouth shut and now they were talking about the word kinky. Horrible, a crime really.

The three alive people ate the snacks while drinking wine, and Aziraphale was only drinking wine.

“Hey Aziraph’le?” Dagon asked, “Were does the wine go? When you drink it?”

Aziraphale looked thoughtful and shrugged, “It disappears.”

Dagon splutters, “What? Just, gone?”

The blond nodded, “Yep. Liquids just disappear, I think they evaporate from the false heat. Food.” he looks disgustedly for a second, “The less I say the better.”

Next to their conversation about Aziraphale's body functions, Anathema was telling Crowley about his natal chart. Which he is trying to find flaws in and cause a disagreement, because really that is what he does.

“You are being such a Taurus!” Anathema huffs in argument, “Difficult and dramatic!”

“That’s my personality, a born and raised asshole Ana. Stars don't change that.”

"You are proving my damn point!"

"I am an asshole because I am surrounded by hem all the time. Stars don't matter!" He hisses through some words. and it occurs to the calmer half of the quartet that they are both spectacularly sloshed.

“I thought you liked stars!”

“I like Astronomy! Astrology is utter bull.”

Anathema seems to take this as a personal offense and begins to tell him all the many reason he is wrong. Dagon and Aziraphale watched amused. 

“How do they ever get along?” Aziraphale hums in amused exasperation.

Dagon shrugs and takes a hearty sip of wine, “Zero clue. They're like siblings.”

They silently toast to their arguing friends and hope they aren't dragged into that conversation, they both had some brain cells left. Also they were the one who held their alcohol better than the two cat fighters.


	10. Part Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newton Pulsifer is naturally curious, and thus the circle grows

Newt came to pick up Anathema in his beat up old car. Dick Turpin got them from point A to B and he really loved his car, no matter how many times his girlfriend teases him about it. She is drunk asleep in the passenger side. It wasn't the booze that knocked her out, it was just late. 

Her hair is splayed around her face and her finds it hilariously adorable. Her forehead was against the trembling window, and he found it crazy how she didn't wake up from how much his car vibrated. She was fast asleep and he would have to drag her into the house. 

He parked outside their rental home and picked up the woman with few problems. Newt was never a strong man, but he could carry Anathema a yard or two to the bedroom where he can take of her shoes and make sure she wont be all nasty in the morning.

He took a cloth and wiped off her face, she wore little makeup but hated going to bed in it. Wistfully he remembered when they first met, he had accidentally wandered into her cubicle and then got dragged into an investigation. She then frequently went to ask files from him specifically. Soon Crowley did so too. Then they went on a date and here they are, a few years later.  
He is still shy, but he knows his girlfriend well. So he places her shoes carefully by the door in the living room and helps her shed her layers of coats to combat the end of winter cold. He takes her phone and keys out of her pocket, leaving them on the nightstand.

Placing the phone face down, because he didn't like to pry into her things. He wasn't that kind of person. Also if he messed with it too much it might explode in his hands and she would kill him if he broke her pheon. She quite needed it for work.

Though he did let his curiosity peak when he heard her text tone going off. He looked at the messages, thinking it was Crowley or Dagon texting to ask if she had gotten home.

Hope you got home safe dear! - Aziraphale

And a text from Dagon, You are lucky your boy toy comes for you, I’m stuck with the bickering couple.

Newt wondered why the name looked so familiar but shrugs. Setting the phone down he covers Anathema in covers, after leaving a glass of water and headache relief medicine by her side. Then he sinks to sleep.

\------------------------

When he woke up for work he had a sudden need to look at the files Crowley had taken out. He swore up and down something was familiar about that name, and maybe he had seen in in files? Well, likely not since the files were usually old and he wouldn't know anyone from one of those would he?

Newt hummed and went to work with filing, while keeping an eye out for files he knew Crowley checked out. It was the redheads two days off so he had a while to see if he cold find something without outright asking him who that person was.

He wondered idly if it was his lover. He knew Crowley didn't date usually but he also knew that Crowley liked the aesthetic of blonds. Gal and guy.

He flicked through files, putting them in the right place before he saw one that caught his eye. Case from 1875. He remembers Crowley making a copy of the file before. With an eye on the clock he set the file aside for later, no need to take away from his work time. He did kind of enjoy this job and it had a well enough pay.

On his lunch break he took the folder and sees the name. The one from the text Aziraphale Arch. He wondered if it was merely a coincidence. But the name Aziraphale is quite unique, he’s never heard another like it.

This man is dead. He died in the 1800′s. Newt is making this a bigger thing than it was supposed to be. But he also had the sinking suspicion that something is very wrong. He wonders, and sees a sketch of what he would look like when he went missing. There was a also a black and white photo of a blond man. 

He looks at the description, a blond man with blue eyes. Newt wasn't a detective. Never was, never could be one. That was Anathemas expertise, but he was far from stupid. His mind wanted to look at this from another angle. Though it also said he was being a dunce because this was a clearly long dead guy.

Well. He could feed his curiosity. Anathema would be downstairs any minute, she would know. 

Speak of the devil, she was now walking down the stairs and greeted him with a grin.  
“What are you looking at Newt?”

Newt showed her the folder and shrugged, “old case file. How is your day so far?”

She hums, “Its been alright, mostly paperwork from the silver bell killer.” she takes the folder and looks through it. Her eyes go wide but she schools her expression.

Newt wonders how to bring this up, or to ask in a tactful way. Just like most things he blusters through it.

“I saw one of your texts from Crowley, I’m sorry I didn't mean to pry, but there was someone called Aziraphale texting and I knew the name from somewhere and its such a rare name so I was curious-”

Anathema bit her lip, “Yeah it is. Newt I have to text Crowley.”

He watches her take her phone and frantically text, and he cant help but feel like there was something he should know. 

“Ana, really. Please tell me the truth.”

She looks at her phone as it pings. She let out a sigh.

“Yeah. Its a long story, Crowley invited us, both of us, to explain it. I cant explain it myself.”

Newt nods, and steers the conversation away with the promise of knowing the secret. It was a pleasant lunch after the unpleasant starter. Anathema still looked stressed but she relaxed mostly during the lunch. Newt was worried he pushed too hard, but he also wanted to know what was going on with Anathema. 

He didn't notice that she left with one more file than she had before.

\----------

Crowley was sitting on the couch using a storm, while Aziraphale watched worried. They had planned to go out that day, but they postponed after a text from Anathema. Aziraphale was fidgeting with his fingers and biting his lip and wondering what was about to happen.

There were already three people who knew about him, well seven counting the four market kids. He didn't want anymore extra attention and he wondered what to do about it. Though he knew what it was like to keep a secret from someone you knew. Newt was Anathema’s life partner. The blond understood but that didn't mean he had to enjoy it.

Crowley suddenly buried his face in Aziraphale's shoulder. He stilled for a second but pat his back. They were both stressed. Crowley let out a breath, and Aziraphale hummed.  
He wished in his heart of hearts that he could hold Crowley like this forever. The soft red hair tied up in a bun, sunglasses forgotten on the table and the proximity. Aziraphale felt a little bad that he enjoyed this so much, this was a stressful time. 

He shook his head, “Dear do you need anything? We have a few hours before they come around.”

Crowley sighed, “I want to go to bed.”

The blond chuckles, “Can’t do that, come along we can watch a movie and I'll make you popcorn.”

“How are you so calm?”

Aziraphale hummed, “I am used to stressful situations.”

He leaves the room and leaves Crowley to deal with the amount of baggage that came with that simple sentence. Yes he was, since he had risen from the dead but also, there was so much behind such a blunt phrase. The redhead bit his lip. He hadn't heard much of the blonds life before, just about his shop and they shared things they liked.   
It hit him how little he knew, and he would take today as an opportunity to learn. He wanted to know about his friends life before death. He thirsted to understand Aziraphale’s life and how it lead him here.

Said dead man walked in with a bowl of popcorn, “Spicy. However you enjoy it like that is a surprise.”

Crowley takes the banter, “Makes me a spicy man.”

Aziraphale snorts, and Crowley turns the TV to an old zombie movie, which had Aziraphale rolling his eyes at him, be he could see the fondness behind the false annoyance. 

\-------------

Anathema knocks on the door, Newt stood behind her. He had never seen where Crowley lived, he wasn't lose to the man, but they were work friends. He wonders what it looks like on the inside.

The door is opened by said redhead, he is in sweatpants and a crumply button up, with the top two buttons undone. He looked disheveled but still in a way that spoke of taste. Newt questioned how he always looked put together even when he wasn't, and he was being ushered into the flat.

Then he stood stock. He compared the black and white photo from earlier to the man sitting on the couch with a sweater vest. 

The man, blond with blue eyes and the same build and almost exactly the same height of the long dead man he had read the file about. 

“Witch make him sit down and close his mouth.” Crowley grumbled.

Anathema huffed and maneuvered Newt to sitting position on a chair and closed his mouth.

Crowley sat down and sighed, “Yeah. So this is Aziraphale.”

“He is dead.”

“Yes.” It was said patiently, like to a child. Newt couldn't find it in himself to feel affronted. 

Aziraphale swatted the redhead and smiled kindly, “Yes, well, one day I was dead and then I get woken up by a knock on my grave and now I am here. No I am not a zombie, I don't at anything let alone human.” 

Newt lets his brain process, “How many people know?”

He took it better than the three other thought and Crowley answered, “Us and Dagon Prince.”

The shocked brunet nodded, then took a breath, “So this is why you’ve all gotten so close?”

“Yup.” Crowley popped the P.

“Well.”

“You are now invited to the Friends with the Dead club. We meet and drink wine every once in a while.” the redhead joked, and Aziraphale snorts. Ana laughs a little and looks at him with meaningful eyes. They were asking if he wanted to be in. To keep with the know. 

“Great, do I have to sign something or?” Anathema laughs, and the night is peaceful.


	11. Part Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :) are you ready?

Crowley and Aziraphale decided that going to town today would be pleasant. It was less cold than other days, it was Crowley’s day off, and they could hang out like friends do. They had a little list of errands, made by the blond because Crowley, while being a medical official, is forgetful.

The first place would be a thrift store, Crowley wanted to see if they had any good records or CD’s. It seems like every cd he has disappears and is replaced by a Best of Queen. Not to say he doesn't love queen with his whole heart, he just really wanted to find even a Frank Sinatra. 

While he is flipping through the extensive amount old records, Aziraphale is thumbing through clothes. Crowley had given him money -- which he had felt bad about and had to be practically coerced into taking --and he intended to use it to its best amount. 

He found a few things, all of which were nicely cheap. Crowley jumped a little when Aziraphale came over with a bag in his arm.   
“Find anything dear?”

Crowley hissed in frustration, “It’s all old hymns and songs about patriarchy. Not good.”

Aziraphale nodded and Crowley sighed, giving up on the third whole set of The Sound of Music. They walked out, talking avidly to each other with as Crowley exaggeratedly opened the door for the blond.

This earned him a small smile and he counted that as worth it. To the next place!

\------------

The next stop was a surprise, they had both accepted the grocery store as the next thing, but then they were in front of an old store. Aziraphale’s eyes widened, and they looked a little glassy.

“Crowley.”

“It’s not the same, but I am sure we could find some of your old edition here's.”

It was a bookstore that was in the old spot of where A.Z. Fell and Co. used to sit proudly. Aziraphale was still processing and Crowley wondered if he pushed a line. But instead he got a hug from over the middle, he acted affronted but he smiled fondly. No he dint cross any lines.

They got out and Aziraphale marveled at the shop, even if it wasn't his own he still felt immensely nostalgic. While in the store he looked through the aisles and found old Oscar Wilde’s. He turned to Crowley with a small smile as he held his book. This was his. 

“I used to know him you know?” He told the redhead who turned very fast.

“What?” he looked scandalized.

“Oh yes he was quite a person. I hope he lived a nice life.” Aziraphale said wistfully. Crowley smiled a little at the look of remembrance before he remembered something himself.

“Wasn’t he a big shot in the gay community?”

Aziraphale laughed, “Yes he was. I am glad that is what he got known for.” 

After buying the book from a woman, who didn't now it was so old and sold it for a way lower price than what should have been asked, they went back to the Bentley. They then made a random stop at Crowley’s favorite clothes store. It went well, with Crowley buying a few things with a grin.

The rest of the trip went as planned, and Aziraphale made dinner. Crowley took a shower, then sent a goodnight to his friend. 

Aziraphale took a shower and then smiled down at his novel.

He sighed softly. He was glad he was alive now and had these experiences, but he also almost missed his old life. It was only natural. He had his family and a few friends and regulars from his shop. But he never did have these close friendships. If this didn't happen he wouldn't have met Anathema and Dagon and Newt. And he wouldn't have met Crowley who made him feel alive again, in a different way. With a dreamy sigh he sat the book down carefully on the coffee table and fell asleep thinking.

\----------

The next two weeks were tame, Aziraphale went out when he was bored, cooked and cleaned when he wanted to, which was a lot. Crowley didn't complain, he was rather thankful someone did it for him. When Aziraphale was alive he did not enjoy cleaning, but now the dust made him feel gross.   
Sometimes when he went out he would run into the kids that found him, and they would ask if he would play a villain in their game. He always did, because he did have a soft spot for kids either way. 

(Little to his knowledge, many of the adults in the city had a high opinion of him, as he kept the kids out of trouble and was generally a nice person. His reputation was as the kind man who was new.)'

Tonight the Dead Club would meet up, he really found the name silly but Crowley loved the joke, so he put up with it with only fond exasperation. 

\---------

Newt and Anathema were sitting close together, Newt not drinking because he liked to be in control of himself thank you. Crowley was sitting like he had no bones more hips to speak of, which is his normal, especially when he was chilling out. 

Crowley turned to the conversation between his ME coworker and his dead friend and saw something in both of their eyes that made him listen in on the conversation.  
“- It would all be under the hypothetical pretense.”

“The would seem suspicious Dagon you know-”

“Listen I wouldn't even specify names or bring in concrete facts I just-”

“-That still seems like a bad idea! What if they are intrigued and want to look deeper. What if they get curious as to why you brought it up. Its too dangerous a situation.”

Dagon huffed, “No one would look deeper.”

“Someone looked deeper about a text from his girlfriends friends. Curiosity is fickle thing. That is a no.”

“Well that was a name, and they wont be able-”

“Please! Stop.”

“What? They wont be able to link anyone to it-”

“They can link you to it! And imagine if they link your friends with you? You aren't just putting me in danger, but this could disrupt everyone's-.”

Dagon looked agitated and now the other two in the room where listening to the quiet argument between the doctor and the dead man.

“I don't even-”

“Can you not take no for an answer!” Came the final shouted question as the man stood up. Dagon stared wide eyed and the other living people saw that Aziraphale was looking less human.   
Then all the anger drained from his face, as he looked down at his hands, blue and almost black at the tips, with wide eyed fear. When he looked back up at them he looked mortified, holding his hands to his chest. Aziraphale was shaking, mouth opening as if to say something before he clamped it shut.

And then he was out if the door and out of sight in seconds


	12. Part Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I live for angst. Also I love writing this all in like two weeks and knowing that only a few people will ever read it. 
> 
> If youre reading this thank you! I hope this isn't ass

Dagon stared at the open door, Crowley was trying to get his slightly addled brain to think, Anathema and Newt were still looking as shocked as the rest of them felt. 

Dagon looked liked she was trying to say something and stopped. She felt bad. It was just that she wanted to talk about this to others who knew science liked she did and Crowley isn't the best to talk about academics, no matter how high he scored in his college classes. 

She should have stopped when he asked the first time. And now he’s gone and run off and she cant even apologize in her gruff and awkward way. 

Crowley stared and he wanted to yell. The look of pure fear and regret on his face made Crowley’s stomach turn. He was also pissed, in the emotional and physical ways. If he tried to run after the blond he would trip over his legs. 

He wanted to yell at Dagon, but he could see the look in her eyes. He could ignore that, but also, he would feel bad for doing so, curse his shitty heart.

Anathema was thinking deeply about the situation. This was bad.

\-----------

Aziraphale wasn't sure where he was but he was there fast. He hadn't run to his grave, because that would be an obvious spot. That's if they even wanted to come find him. Which is doubtful. He showed them that he was just a horrifying monster. 

The looks of fear made his metaphorical stomach turn. He wanted nothing more than to go back to the grave. 

When he felt sick from running he ran even more, trying to make his body just stop for even a second. 

He tripped over a root like an idiot. Of course he would. He cursed himself and sat down. It was an old tree and he knocked on the trunk, just out of curiosity. It made a hollow thud back at him. He tapped it again, enjoying the sound almost enough to distract him from the idea of being a monster.

The thoughts only left for a minute at most, and he looked around the tree and found an opening. Peering inside he saw it was big enough to hold two people, albeit uncomfortably. 

In a rare moment of thoughtless action he went in. He curled into a ball in it, not in his usual normal posture, and sighed.

He let himself fall asleep unaware of what was happening around him.

\-----------------------

Crowley and the other three living people had to go to bed for that night. They would be no use drunk and frozen to death. It was uncomfortably silent during the restless hour between sleep and the argument. 

The silence felt like the strongest noise, no one knowing what to do. They all had work in the morning, it felt like a sheet had been thrown over an old chair.

Newt and Anathema didn't even leave, both asleep on the couch, and Dagon resting fitfully on the recliner. Crowley was in his bed staring at the ceiling. The whole scene was a mess. No one was a villain, but everyone was a victim. He wished that he was less understanding, then he would have been able to order everyone out of his house to he could scream into the pillows.

Crowley also knew that a part of him felt like he was overreacting. The part of him was shitty and needed to leave immediately he thought. 

it was hard to try and fight with himself, so he succumbed to sleep, worried and frustrated,

\------------  
Crowley awoke to no noise. It was early for him but he momentarily was alarmed at the lack of humming and small clattering pots in the kitchen. Then he remembered what happened and sighed. He drug himself out of bed and changed in the bathroom, going through the routine without realizing he was doing so. 

Making a cup of coffee he wondered with a humorless laugh, how the hell they were all going to work that day. The rest of the merry men were still asleep, all looking worse for wear. Well, that will teach them to crash at his flat. He doesn't even have proper guest arrangement. 

There was still an hour till they all had to wake up. And he sat down and thought of all the places Aziraphale would go. He had a mental list that he would write down in his phone notes app if he had brought the thing to the table.

Well first his grave of course. He went there in times of stress, that's what he has taken note of so far. The bookshop where his used to be. Anywhere in the two parks that were near the flat. He could also check some graveyards near here. Aziraphale showed interest in seeing if anyone he knew still had a gravestone.

An of course he would drag Anathema, Newt, and Dagon into this man hunt because he needed the help. Crowley knew he probably wouldn't have to ask, they would insert themselves into the equation whether he wanted them to or not. He smiled at his friends determination. They all were very stubborn and headstrong people. Sometimes that was a good thing.

And sometimes...

He shook his head and went to wake up the sleeping trio. 

He then had a devilish idea, with a pot and a wooden spoon he got to work.

BANG BANG BANG, “Up with all of you!”

Dagon fell out of the recliner, Newt had shot up and Anathema had a hand poised to attack. He laughed a little, but the melancholy of the situation got to him first.  
“We have to go to work today but you all are going to help me search tonight. Be ready for that.”

They all grumbled, still waking up. Dagon looked the worst, but he knew the reason of that at least. They all sat and drank coffee, before sludging to work. The vagabonds still in last nights clothes. 

The downstairs ME offices were silent. No one talked, both wallowing in something or another, the only sound being one of them starting up an autopsy and the rolling of cadaver cart wheels. The file room in the downstairs was also silent. Newt was filing in silence, still trying to process everything. 

It happened so fast. They looked over a shout and Aziraphale was dead looking and he was worried, not for himself but he thought that maybe e was dying for real this time. Instead of anything he ran away. It was a fast experience, and the hours trying to sleep was like years in contrast.

Upstairs was little different. No one in the offices were quiet, other than the usual loud and manic detective. No one else knew what happened, so her quietness made a few of them worry.

“Hey Device? You good?” Michael Spears asked. The commander was usually observant, and could spot a change in demeanor easily. Especially one so juristically different. 

“I’m alright Spears.”

Michael looked unconvinced, “is it the filing boy?”

Anathema looks up and shakes her head, “No.”

The commander seemed like she would keep pushing the detective and she sighed.

“Some friends of mine got in a fight and one left in a hurry.”

Michael looks sympathetic, “About what?”

Anathema knew she was worried, but she also knew Michael loved gossip.  
“Nothing important. Really. I’m just worried about them.”

“Do you know where the runaway went?”

Anathema shook her head.

“Need a missing persons call on them?”

Anathema went white, and shook her head, “He is probably fine. He is a grown man anyway.”

Michael finally left and she sighed, sinking into her seat. She at least knew that Crowley and Dagon and Newt wouldn't e getting any questions. They all sucked at lying.


	13. Part Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE ADAM so much ok. ok.

Adam Young liked making friends thank you very much. He also enjoyed games and interesting things, like global warming or the witch trails. Both very interesting subjects!  
When he found out there was a zombie in his world he was ecstatic. It was cool, and the zombie didn't even eat or steal little kids! He was a nice man who played games with him and his friends! Adam also knew that his parents were wary of him inviting the stranger to play but soon they warmed up to him. 

The zombie was supposed to play with them today, but he hadn't showed up. To which Adam was, at first, very cross. Pepper was telling him it was probably that the government had found him, or he was by his grave in the woods. So of course they head to the park to find him. He wasn't there. 

The grave was still empty of anything but cold water, so Adam had his sights on finding the zombie. If he had been taken by the government that will have been rude of them to do. They cant just go about messing with people, even if they are dead.

They searched the park and didn't give up until they heard footsteps. They hid behind a tree, not trusting adults blindly, just like Adam’s mom and Mr. Aziraphale said. 

There were four adults in the woods, all of them were quietly arguing. They listened in, because this is like a game. What if they were saying something useful?

\------

Crowley groaned, “he’s not anywhere in Morosely. Not near the grave, not in the next park over! Shit!” he rubbed his face in his hands.

“He could be anywhere.” Anathema sighed.

Dagon bit her lip, “We can find him. Cant be hard to find his hair color anywhere.”

The joke didn't get any chuckles, the air stayed heavy.

\----------

Adam and the Them heard the whole conversation and looked at each other. That was definitely about Mr. Aziraphale. The four kids went quietly in the opposite direction and then darted off to find something to help in their quest. 

They started using a list, Wensly made it because he was the only one who could keep his head for three seconds. Adam scratched off the two parks and the grave. They didn't have to look in those places. Maybe they could look at the one near the iron cemetery. That's hat they called the junkyard.

It would have to wait until the next day, since Adam’s mom wanted him to be home for dinner. The rest parted ways so they would all get home before dark.

\--------------

Crowley went home and once again missed how humming with life his flat used to be. Aziraphale was usually around humming doing something. Or he was watching TV which was showing a random movie that had caught the blond’s eyes, or he would be loudly bitching about how terrible a show’s premise was. 

He went and showered quietly, and started looking through the fridge for something to eat, because he wouldn't e any use to anyone starving. He was still angry at that small part of him that was talking some sense into him. 

The redhead wondered how life would be if he could never find his friend after this. It would suck. He would miss the joyful alive energy that his flat now housed. Dagon wouldn't come back from guilt. Newt wasn't a conversationalist, and Anathema would be the only one who came over anymore.

He realized hw much had changed and he didn't ant it to change back. Crowley was not miserable before this, but now he had a taste of a loving household he wanted to hold onto it like a snake holds its prey. 

He settled on leftover pasta and sat in silence. 

Slowly he observed the room. Then he got up. He wouldn't allow right now. he would do something reductive. Stalking to his office he went to work.

\--------

Adam and the Them met up bright and early the next day and made their way to the iron cemetery. 

It was sunny out but the ground was shadowed by huge sheets of metal. Random nuts and bolts and boards covered the ground. This place was dangerous but they had to cross it to get into the woods on the other side. They acted like it was a quest and that when they found the zombie man he would reward them with a magic sword or something equally amazing.

There was a small fort made of metal that they explored. It was a cool place so they kept this in mind just in case they ever wanted to come back to the place.  
The woods on the edge of the junkyard was huge. It had towering trees, if they had leaves at that moment they would be creating a large shaded area. Pepper closed her coat tighter around herself, and Brian did the same. It was a scary scene really.

Adam walked on unafraid, like a triumphant knight. He grinned and they all searched the tree line for any super pale and blond figures. They searched until lunch, which was heralded by Brian’s stomach making a noise.

They would continue this tomorrow, their mothers would not like them being so far from home for a whole day.

Pepper’s mom greeted them when they walked into her store and she smiled, “Hungry?”

They all nodded, and Pepper’s mom gave them sandwiches and tea to warm them up from playing around outside. Lunch was good and the rest of the day was spent on the playground playing Inquisition.


	14. Part Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Listen I have no words. I'm sorry for spamming anyone who follows this story. Quarantine is making SICK. So now we have thousands of words from a week or boredom :D

Crowley spent his days working, evenings searching, and nights sleeping and making a new bedroom. He wasn't sure why he did it. There is still the fact that they may never find Aziraphale again, but he held out hope, and anyways it was something to keep his mind occupied. With Queen playing through the flat he had it almost decent for a three day remodel.

Three days. Three days since Aziraphale left. No traces of his were anywhere. At least if it was still snowing they could find footsteps but not. It was edging up to spring and the weather was still cold as hell. He grumbled about it often enough for Dagon to snap at him for being a little bitch about it. 

Anathema and the other two would be over in a few minutes, just to check notes and talk. It felt wrong without a bastard blond, but they were doing their best.   
When they did arrive it was only minutes before someone was knocking frantically on their door. Crowley got up and flung open the door, staring at eye level he glared, but then his gaze trailed downwards.

There was a child at the door.

Four of them.

"Hello. You know Mr. Aziraphale right?"

\-------------------------

Using half the day to look through the woods was inefficient but it was all the Them could do without arousing suspicion to their cause. Said cause would sound absolutely nutters to anyone not the Them, but they were determined in this. 

They got through a few yards everyday before day three. The they heard Wenslydale scream. The other three kids turned quickly, excited and a little scared to what spooked him so badly. It was a tree, it towered heavily even over the other tall trees. Its trunk was black like rot, and what looked to be blue algae covered the north side.

They looked at it in awe. Adam circled the thing before looking down and seeing a hand. 

The person attached to that hand was inside the tree! Adam looked closer and saw that is was Mr. Aziraphale. Around him was frost covering the ground in the trunk, ice crawling up the inside like ivy tendrils. He tapped the mans arm. 

They couldn't get him out of the place but they knew where he was. Adam tried to yell for him to wake up but he was fast asleep. 

Pepper hummed and screamed louder, but the sleeping zombie didn't budge. She might have kicked him if she wasn't stopped by Brian. 

So they came up with a plan, which involved finding the redheaded man from the woods. They set about the task as soon as they went back for lunch. They would soon be finished with their daring quest and they would have their villain player back.

\----------

It didn't take long to find the redheaded man in town. He was by himself and they followed him around the market, being completely sure that he wouldn't see them  
If they talk to him then, he might not believe them. Children’s brains work weird. They followed him and saw him walk up a se of stairs to a flat. Ok, check on that. They now needed a picture of Mr. Aziraphale in the woods. That would make the man believe them easily! Cant fake a picture!

So they ventured back to their sleeping tree and took a picture, multiple actually, One of the tree, on of the inside of the tree and one of their zombie. They high-fived their victory.   
All the steps were over with except the last one.

\---------

“Hello. You know Mr. Aziraphale right?”

Crowley spluttered and nodded. The kids pushed their way into his flat and short circuits.

“Wait, you-”

“Yeah yeah. Don't go into a strangers house. We have something to show you.” The girl said, and the boy who looked like the leader held up three pictures.

“We found Mr. Aziraphale!” he puts the pictures in a line on the coffee table. Crowley looks at the pictures and feels confused and shocked. Then he grins.

“He’s still alive!”

The other three adults in the room looked at the kids and nodded.

Anathema takes a picture of the photos, “Where did you find him?”

“We can take you!” Said the one with dark brown hair.

Dagon tuts, ‘Listen kids, we cant just go following kids we will look like creeps.”

The one who looks like a leader rolled his eyes, “Well that sucks, you’ll have to follow us.”

The four adults meet eyes and all decidedly nod. They gesture for the kids to lead the way, before stopping it.  
“Its too dark for you four to be out.”

“Well then no one will see us slinking about!”

Fair point, the adults conceded. Crowley locks his door behind him and they are off.

\--------------

The walk is dangerous in the day, and the adults have all taken out their phones and uses the flashlight on them. The kids march through a path without fear, as if they had been through this junkyard before over and over again. Which they have. 

They lead them through the trees and then come to a stop at the blackened trunk of the dead mans bed. The leader of the children turns and gestured. Crowley walks fast to the opening and stares sadly at Aziraphale. He places a hand on his pulse and feels nothing, but that isn't unusual. 

He shudders with how cold the blonds skin is and he feels his grief catch up with him. He carefully tucks it back into him brain for later perusal when he isn't surrounded by his friends and random children. 

With a deep breath he starts thinking.

“Are you going to kiss him awake like one of those kid movies?"


	15. Part Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :D

Crowley splutters and looks up at the kids, “Wot? No?”

The girl nodded like he had passed a test, the leader looked a little downtrodden, but the rest of them just kept quiet in wait for his next move.

Crowley took a deep breath and looked at Dagon and Anathema, “What do I do? He’s stock asleep, like the dead he is.”

Anathema hummed looking over him, “Should we try to get him out first?”

Dagon rolls her eyes, “Can’t, he’s got himself in there well enough if we tried to get him we’d get stuck.”

Anathema nods and Crowley huffs, “good we have to keep him in the tree. How do we wake sleeping beauty?”

“Kiss em.” Dagon snarks, and Crowley looks unamused.

“We don't even know if we can wake him up, please have some decorum.” Anathema scolded.

“Got a better idea?” Dagon says again, a false sneer on her face. She was looking thoughtful.

Crowley sighed, and then had an idea.  
“Like the first night! Maybe I need to just...” he taps carefully on Aziraphale’s chest, just as he did on the ice that one night. 

He holds his breath and then lets it out in a sigh as nothing happens, not a twitch or a shiver. The kids were staring and he felt more pressure, which was stupid. But also he would hate to disappoint the kids and tell them that their friend will not come back. 

He had a bit of a soft spot for kids. 

Looking up at Anathema he pleads with his eyes. maybe she will have a witch remedy? She usually had them, and though he didn't totally believe in that he was practically begging for something to work for them. 

He didn't now what he would do if he left this clearing with one less friend.

With a sudden lightbulb moment he stood up and closed his eyes. Reaching an arm out he knocked once on the tree trunk. In his mind he was silently wishing, no it was more desperate, praying that this would work. 

please. please bring him back.

He knocked twice. Both loud and confident nd suddenly, he heard crackling. Ice was cracking from the inside of the tree and head heard a noise of strain from the trunk.  
He stood back and watched as the tree shifted a little and he stared at the prone body of Aziraphale. 

Then he heard cracking and popping. 

And his eyes met blurry blue.

He began to smile manically, the gasps of the adults and kids surrounded him.

Aziraphale rolled his shoulders and yawned daintily, his jaw crackling. He didn't notice anyone around him as he stared at his fingers as he flexed them wto the sound of popping. he looked up and saw everyone around him, the kids and his friends. He pressed farther into the tree worried. 

Crowley kneeled by the tree opening and smiled, “Hey angel.”

Aziraphale studied the faces of everyone around him and sighed, “Hello.”

He stood up, and Crowley followed suit. He left the tree and was assailed by the group. Hugs from all around before he knew what was happening. He slowly smiled and hugged as many people back as he could.

“I’m sorry.”

It was Dagon who pulled away to look at him in the eyes, “It’s ok. I should be apologizing.”

“Forgiven.”

Dagon snickered, and the hug finally stopped. Aziraphale looked at the kids and huffed.

“You four know well enough that it is way too late to be out.”

Adam groaned, as the blond fretted. 

“Come on. I am thankful you were here but you all need to be well rested! Also it is so late, what do your parents think?”

Crowley smiled fondly, “Alright, we can take em home.”

“No way, we aren't going home until we know what happened.” Pepper demanded.

Aziraphale sighed, “While we walk you home we can tell you.”

The kids took that as an answer and they all went on their way.

\---------------  
Back at the flat the five of them sat down. It was a little awkward. It was ended by Anathema.

“So the kids suggested that Crowley kiss you to wake you up.” She was grinning, making a kissy face and Dagon snickered. She then mimicked the kissy face, until even newt was doing it.

Aziraphale was laughing fully while Crowley was flushed red. The redhead looked almost like a red pepper with how red he was.

Aziraphale grinned and, like the bastard he is, made a kissy face as well. This sent fresh rounds of laughter through the group. Crowley included, because It was really funny, he could admit it.

They all sat, trying to catch their breath from laughing and the room felt less tense and still. 

“So who wants late night snacks?” Aziraphale asked slyly.

Anathema smiled, “I swear you’re trying to fatten us up.”

“Hey if he eats us he wants to get the most bang for his buck!” Crowley snickered, getting a smack to the side of his arm from a mock offended Aziraphale.

Aziraphale looks indignant but grins, “Crowley will be the green bean casserole.”

Dagon was wheezing but Aziraphale spoke louder, “Dagon you are the fish sticks. Don't want t hear you laughing.”

Crowley was holding tightly to his sides and then Aziraphale turned to Newt.

“You’re excused because won’t eat lizards.” anathema snorted and Newt looked thoughtful before smiling, which was a good sign.

Aziraphale looked playfully thoughtful at anathema, “Ana will be sushi because I would feel bad to roast her.”

Anathema was rolling and clutching to Newt, Dagon grinned, “Wow a witch not burnt?”

the whole room was full of laughter, and all seemed right in their little world again.


	16. Pat Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :3

Once the people who didn't live in Crowley’s flat left and everything was put away Aziraphale went to the couch to sleep. Crowley stopped him with a sheepish grin.

“I may have did some rearranging while you were gone.”

The blond cocked his head but smiled and gestured for him to show the way. He swaggered to where his office used to be and opened the door with a flourish.

“It’s all yours angel.”

The room was still more a dark grey, but there was a bed with patterned soft blankets, the clothes were hung in the closet, one of his old desks was refashioned into a white desk with a notepad on it. There was a bookshelf that was in a garage sale he saw months ago and he had gotten for some reason. Now it had a purpose.

The silence began to unnerve him and he went to say something but he was stopped by an armful of Aziraphale.

“It’s wonderful Crowley!” He was about knocked out of breath but he just smiled and hugged back just as tight. 

The blond was smiling up at him and he contemplated leaning down and before he had known it he had. 

It could barely be called a kiss actually, before Crowley pulled back horrified at himself. He bit his lip and suddenly pulled an Aziraphale, running into his room and shutting the door. He yelled a sorry, too scared to face his actions consequences.

Aziraphale touched his lips, shocked before turning to the door of Crowley’s bedroom.

He knocked, but could only hear quiet berating, he assumed that was Crowley at himself.   
“Crowley really, come out please.”

“I’m really sorry.”

Aziraphale huffed, “Out of the room.”

The door opened to a Crowley who looked properly cowed, he looked embarrassed and worried.  
“I shouldn't have uh- well-dh-”

Aziraphale grabbed his hand softly, looking at him slowly leaning in closer. A silent question of consent, which was granted by a nod. 

This kiss was soft and careful. Aziraphale pulled away, looking him in the eyes, “I’m glad you’re brave. I would have never have bucked up enough to do that.”

Crowley laughed a little wetly, “Is it not weird?”

Aziraphale hummed and looked thoughtful, “Oh definitely, but when has everything about these last months not been?”

The redhead snorted and gave the blond a good natured swat to the arm. The two sighed.

“Is this necrophilia?”

“I-? Probably not?” well they both hoped not.

They started to laugh, pressing foreheads together.

“I think we need to sleep.” Came the smart reply from Aziraphale. Crowley nodded, and they let go of each others hands. after changing Crowley sat in bed smiling up at the ceiling, trying not to look like a lovesick fool. The same was happening in a newly dubbed zombie’s bedroom. 

\----------

The sound of breakfast being made woke Crowley and he groaned, before shooting up and running into the kitchen with only pajama pants on. He had to make sure nothing that happened was a dream. Aziraphale was wearing a soft sweater and beige pants, humming something he distantly recognized, making eggs and biscuits. 

The blond turned with a smile but then averted his eyes flushing blue.

Crowley grins, “See something you like?”

“I ought to smack you with this spoon.” Aziraphale retorted, and Crowley grinned.

“You’ll have to catch me first.”

“Wha- Hey!” Crowley had run off and he could hear an indignant ‘I wont run after you I am a man of class.’

Crowley changed in his room, and swaggered out, “I’m glad to have you back.”

Aziraphale looks touched and smiles shyly, “It’s funny I didn't think I would wake up from that.’

“I’m glad you did. Cant get rid of us that easy!” the redhead makes a plate and tried to eat a still hot bite of eggs. He hissed and dropped his fork to his plate and did that thing where one tries to cool down hot food by breathing through your mouth really fast.

“No manners at all.” Aziraphale tuts, but hands him a glass of water.

After swallowing his food Crowley sticks his burned tongue out at the blond, but takes the glass gratefully. While he was still up, Aziraphale made a to go cup of coffee for the redhead.

“Angel you are the best.”

“Shush. Least I could do.”

Crowley looks at him with a serious expression, “I would still let you stay even if you didn't cook or clean. Well you’d clean your own messes but. You don’t have to make yourself ‘useful.’”

Aziraphale’s brows knit together but he smiles, “I enjoy doing it.”

“Ah yes, my Zombie housewife?”

That earned him a mock huff and a glare that didn't so much make his feel cowed, but make him coo.

“I will make nothing but Spinach smoothies if you are rude.”

“Nooooo. I hate those.”

Aziraphale looks up at the clock and points at it, “Out you go. Work.”

Crowley groaned but gave a cheeky grin. Grabbing his keys he gave the blond a peck on the cheek and was out the door. Driving to work was autopilot and he grinned. It all really happened. They found Aziraphale. He and Aziraphale kissed. Shit that's wild.


	17. Part Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So. Just gonna say that I think there will only be like one or two chapters after this. Also HOUSEWIFE AZIRAPHALE

Crowley sat at his desk moving cases to solved and sorting through different autopsies to make sure all the facts matched up. It was boring work but also he hated to think of, and speak of the fucking devil. Luci grinned down at him and he felt almost like his fight or flight kicked in. Bastard piece of work.

“Yes?” He said, eyebrows raising over sunglasses.

Luci rolled his eyes, “Really why do you feel the need to wear those silly glasses.”

“You know well enough Lucien. What do you want?”

“Oh I cant come into the snakes den to talk?” He purred, putting his elbows on the table, like a casual chat.

Crowley sets down the folder he was holding and adjusted the sunglasses pointedly, “You don’t chat. What do you want?”

He made a fake sad noise, like he was emotionally wounded.

Crowley scowled and gestured for him to go on. 

“Yeah I have another case for you to work on. This time you're working with Device and an FBI agent. Beatrice F. Swatter,” he glared, suddenly very serious, “You will be on best behavior with them.”

The redhead rolled his eyes, “Yea alright. If you want well mannered get Prince on the case. She has respect. I, on the other hand, don't.”

“Crowley you’re the best with serial killer cases. You and device caught the last one, and Swatter wants to see what you two are made of. Disappoint me and I will have you doing the most boring cases to ever exist.”

Crowley waved his hand dismissively, “Yeah yeah, will do. Won’t let you down or whatever.”

Luci just gave his famously charming playboy smile and left.

“Bastard.” Mumbled the redhead as he finished with the file, “wait that ass didn't even-”

“Anthony J. Crowley. I’ve heard so much about you.”

The man in question jumped out of his seat, his pose that of a striking viper. Turning he saw a person with straight black hair to their shoulders, they were much shorter than him, as he was almost 6 foot. They had big eyes that had an amber tint to them. A black pantsuit with a red tie and a fishnet turtleneck underneath a black top. What a weird ensemble. He could get behind it.

Crowley straightened, rolling his neck a little and crossed his arm, “I take it you're Swatter?”

“Yes.” They had a weird quality to their voice. Their s sounded like z’s. He wasn't judging, he sometimes had trouble with his s’s.

“Well. Pleasure.” He gave a curt nod. They nodded back.

“Anyway, I’m not the smart one of the group. I was just bait in the last case. Nothing close to a James Bond situation.” He gestured upstairs. “Anathema knows what she’s doing.”  
Swatter rose an eyebrow and clicked their tongue. He was vaguely reminded of a fly. 

“Well. Show me to Device.” Pushy much? He just nodded and lead them up the stairs to Anathema’s cubicle. She was hovering over her work, her eyes so intent it was slightly scary. He knocked on the side and her head shot to look at them. 

“You must be Agent Swatter.” She said matter of fact and got up, “We can move to the conference room.”

Crowley followed, since being a detective was not his job. He may have a medical degree but he was also not one for piecing bits of information together. He’s pieced bodies together well enough but finding out a serial killer? Not his game.

Sitting down he saw the files about bodies and immediately dove into them. He scanned them unaware of the two in the room watching him. Anathema cleared her throat and smiled.

“So. Tell me about our killer.” Anathema said politely, sitting down across from the black haired agent.

“With Pleasure. The press has found out about them last night, so they will be everywhere. It is most likely a woman or someone woman shaped. All their victims are teenagers. It’s brutal and we know nothing about them other than they use brutal means.”

Anathema nods, taking the files with grave, before looking through them with vigor. Crowley had looked up from his own files with a sad look on his face. This was one case he wished he could have passed to Dagon. Yeah he was an ME he dealt with death, but also seeing kids so close to that one boys age, Adam was it? Seeing them be the targets sucked massively. 

“I can get these files to Agnes-”

“Who?” The agent glared at her suspiciously.

“Agnes Nutter. Resident profiler and best of her line.” Crowley said offhandedly.

Swatter looked perturbed, “Nutter?”

“Yeah. She’s absolutely bonkers but she’s practically a oracle.”

Anathema huffed, “She cant use future vision to know who did it. If she could there would be no need for me.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, “Yeah I know. No witchery in the workplace for Nutter.”

“Sometimes I think you call her that to annoy me.”

“Eh she called me Flaming Serpent first. Very rude of her.”

Swatter looked at the conversation with confusion and annoyance, their throat clearing made Anathema stop what she was going to say. 

“So is it alright with you for me to have her look these over?”

Agent Swatter shook their head, “No. we already have profilers in HC looking at them. I just need to see if you two are worth the praise Almigh gives you.”

Crowley blinks. Almigh praised them? The reclusive head of the whole operation. The woman with connections, the woman who not even her employees have seen her face. Other than Aaron Metton to spokesboy? 

Well. OK.

The black haired agent stood up, “I will be going to find coffee.”

And they left. Crowley looked at them suspiciously as they left. He sighed, “I do not trust them.”

Anathema rolled her eyes, “You have trust issues.”

“I do not! I trusted Azira.”

The witch gave him an expression he couldn't decipher, “Yeah that's why I am worried. You trusted Azira before you trusted your coworker.”

“Oi. Don't attack me in this conference room.”

\---------------------

Aziraphale hummed and was grinning while cleaning some dishes. Everything was good. He had everything he could ever want in this moment, he was home, he had books he could read, he still had friends. It was a delightful thing to be in that moment. 

He heard a beep and took out some baked goods from the stove with careful gloved hands.

He wished desperately that he could eat them, but that was the cruelest curse he could bear. He used to love eating.

\--------------

Anathema was muttering to herself and Crowley was adding random evidence he had seen in his file. She would take the information with a moment of silence before writing it down on the scrawled flowchart on the board. 

“They seem to favor short haired people.” Crowley threw out, watching as Anathema was quiet for a second and then erased something, putting another thing in its place. Watching her work made him feel dizzy from how fast she mumbled and wrote.

Swatter came back a second after he told that fact and stared at the half filled board, they blinked and then chugged their coffee before going to take a closer look. Crowley hummed, Ana really was a smart detective.

He sighed and looked at his phone. A small part of him missed Aziraphale, and by small part it was actually a huge part. He wanted to go home. Watching the scene in front of him distracted him exactly zero percent.

He got up, “Getting coffee.”

No one paid any attention as he left the room, so he went to the breakroom, which he did not frequent as he hated the upstairs breakroom. There were a few police officers, and he poured himself a coffee. The one Aziraphale made him that morning was not cutting it, he was going to need caffeine to deal with an FBI agent. Crowley very much did not like the FBI. He also hated cops as a kid and here he was, in a den of the bastards. He kind of missed his old ACAB leather jacket. Imagine if he wore that shit to work. The riot he would cause gave him enough joy to go back to the conference room.

The other side of the board was more writing but it was in neat scratch. By that he meant he could read it but it looked like someone when they tried to carve a piece of wood. Scratchy but legible. 

“Don't think I’m needed anymore. I’ll be downstairs.” he called, nd got no response. Rolling his eyes he texted Ana’s phone for her to see when she got out of her trance.  
Dagon was downstairs, starting an autopsy, she waved a gloved hand. He gave a curt nod and sat down before beginning his paperwork again.


	18. Part Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is really short but,,,, I'm love them

Aziraphale hummed. He had dinner ready, he had cleaned, but he was feeling restless. He had arranged his books by authors name, then he checked up on Crowley’s plants --he wasn't a plant person so he didn't do much but look at them--.

When the door opened he grinned and looked to see Crowley look absolutely exhausted.

“What happened?”

“Azira I hate my boss.”

Aziraphale nodded in consolidation, and the redhead practically coiled around him in a hug. He smiled as the lanky man felt like slime in his hands.  
“Some on dear boy. Lets get you some tea and then you shower and go to bed ok?”

Crowley mumbled and Aziraphale hummed. He picked up the man, which was crazy and the sudden look of realization of the redheads face was practically his comedy heroine. Crowley held tighter letting himself get carried, there was a plate of warm food at the table and Aziraphale had already started boiling some water. 

He slowly ate, while Aziraphale put a cup of sleepy time tea by him.

“Angel you’re too good to me.”

“Nonsense my dear.”

Then he went to run a bath because he didn't think the redhead could stand up for a shower alone. He felt almost like a mother with how little this man took care of himself.  
Crowley was next to him now and he turned with a smile and gestured to the bath, “In you go.”

Crowley cracked a tired smile, “With you in here? Wanting a show are you?”

Aziraphale scoffed a little, because he is a bastard, “If I wanted a show I would turn on the TV.”

Crowley pouted but went to shuck off his shirt. The door was closed behind the blond and he went to put Crowley’s dishes in the sink and he smiled to see them there already.

\------------

After his bath Crowley pulled himself out of the tub and felt like the living dead. Hah. He looked into Aziraphale's room to see him looking in his closet. The blond heard his footsteps and turned to him with a smile.

Crowley smiled back at him and his zombie friend raised a brow, “do you need something dear?”

His smug tone made Crowley wonder how he felt very strongly for this man, “No goodnight kiss?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and was over to Crowley in a second, placing a quick kiss on his cheek, “off to bed with you.”

Suddenly Crowley did not feel much for sleeping. He fell onto Aziraphale’s bed and looked up at him. 

“So. This is gonna sound stupid but what are we?”

The blond sat on the other side of the bed and hummed, “I don’t know.”

Crowley sighed, he felt his hand get taken in warm hand. 

“Partners? Hereditary enemies? -” Aziraphale snorted at his silly suggestions and he grinned back. He wanted to talk but he also wanted to sleep. Closing his eyes at that moment felt like a good option but also, his reasonable brain told him to keep up.

“Oh lover!” Crowley grinned, crooning the tune out.

Aziraphale giggled, “My heart.”

“dearest one.”

“dollface.”

“Baby.”

Aziraphale made a noise of disgust at that one and it sent Crowley into a small fit of laughter. Their little game was put on pause for him to catch his breath.

“Angel.”

“Fiend.”

“Zombie housewife.” That got him a pillow to the face and he took it and threw it at the other man. He missed horribly.

“Horrid shot.”

Crowley stuck his tongue out.

“Terrible ranger.”

“Bastard.”

“Aww that ones so very sweet of you.” came the fond sarcastic response from the blond.

“Shush.”

He felt the other man’s thumb brush his knuckles and he sighed and closed his eyes at the touch.  
“Don't you go to sleep in my bed!”

“Do you not want to bed me?” Aziraphale flushed, and if he had a pillow he would have hit him again, he settled for a glare, which was taken down from ‘cowing’ to ‘awe blue baby.’   
Crowley giggled sleepily, and then moved himself closer to Aziraphale, the warm lug. 

“Mmm corpse and medical examiner?” The redhead offered, after laying her head on the other mans lap.

“accurate and on the nail my dear.”

“Shhhhh angel I’m gonna sleep.”

“I will push you off my bed.”

“Do you not love me!” he asked with false hurt in his voice, and he felt a kiss to his temple.

“Of course I don't.” The teasing tone made him grin but he looked back up.

“Boyfriend?”

The groan he got was spectacular, “That is so juvenile.”


	19. Part Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :D I bring only good vibes

Beatrice Swatter is a no nonsense agent. They don't even let people call them Beatrice, friends call them Bee, and the criminals who they find call them Beelzebub. (As did anyone who didn't do paperwork right.) There is a good reason for that. 

So once they noticed the Silver Bell killer apprehended, they were thoroughly impressed. Even if it was because of a psychotic break, they got the guy before anyone else would have. They were curious however, once they met the two that supposedly took down a serial killer with ease.

The redhead medical examiner wore sunglasses and what looked to be strictly fashionable clothes under the lab coat. They noticed he easily picked up details from a file but had a weakness. He had a terrible poker face. He could pick up details and patterns easily but the look on his face gave away all of his thoughts.

Device, on the other hand, was promising. This was a huge compliment from them. She was crazy, they mused. The way she took information and reformed a whole chart around it to create a new and better theory. She looked very much like she had crawled out of an occult magazine and they say this in the least offensive way possible.

Both of the pair were easily working together. Crowley would give facts and patterns that he noticed, ones that not even the examiners they had worked with before saw and noted. Device took them in stride with little hesitation, no doubt that the facts are true when said from her coworkers mouth. 

Agent Swatter took the new allies in stride. They also noticed little things about the group over a span of three days. Device had a partner in filing. Pulsifer found any file needed easily, handing it over after looking it over. He didn’t seem the strongest of characters, but he did his job very well. Another ME, Dagon Prince was meticulous, when they observed her. At first they thought that her and Crowley might have been a thing, Bee always took the time to know who was with who in their office, it made blackmail easier. In turn they realized that Crowley very much was not interested and neither was Prince. 

Crowley looked at his phone and when getting calls answered immediately. Diligent in answering, but half the time he would greet the person, then hang up. Unless if was someone important, then he left the room. 

Swatter wondered if there was a Mrs. or Mr. Crowley. Though wondering was not their job.

In the room Crowley got up, after his phone began to ring to a song, Zombie by the Cranberries they believed. 

Since they had nothing to do in that second they listened in on the conversation, acting like they were entranced in the coffee. 

“Hey angel.” They could only hear the redheads side of the conversation.

“Yes, I should be able to.”

“Aww all for me?”

“Wait kdfh, don’t hang up I’m sorry.”

“Yes fine back to work with me. See you later.”

Hm. Interesting. Definitely a lover. Though it was not their business that minute. They just liked to know when things happened and that is why they were, in fact, not nosy. They just liked to know everyone’s business. 

Looking back at the board they took a picture of it on their phone. This conference has been their collaborative work room, which Crowley was not usually in unless there is an autopsy file.

\----------

Why did he let himself get dragged to another car full of detectives? He had to sit in the back! He was sulking in the back as Anathema drove and Agent Swatter was in shotgun looking over files. 

He bounced out of the car easily when she stopped. AS soon as it was safe he was gone and at the body.

“There's a survivor.” he mumbled to himself, seeing a boy in black slumped on a bench. He had longer dark hair and looked about Adam’s age.

“Nanny?”

Oh shit he knew this kid.

“Warlock?” he walked towards the bench, looking the kid over.

Anathema was next to him, and he looked at her, as if telling her to bugger off for a minute.

“Hey Warlock. What happened?” He used to babysit this kid, he wore a skirt a few times and the kid suddenly called him Nanny. He didn't ant to admit that he liked the nickname.  
Warlock looked annoyed, but then turned and hugged him. He was shaking, but any kid who witnessed a murder would. Crowley hugged him back.

“Hey it’s alright kid.”

“You know this child?” Agent Swatter had walked over, looking as unpleasantly annoyed as usual.

Crowley hummed, “Yeah. Used to babysit him. Was forever ago I thought he would have forgotten.”

Warlock scoffed, and pulled away from the hug, “As if, you were the first goth in my life.”

Crowley snickered. Anathema smiled, “Well Warlock. Can you tell me all you saw? Crowley has to do his job.”

Warlock looked six again, as he looked up at Crowley with big eyes. Crowley smiled and nodded, “I’ll come back over. We can catch up.”

Warlock nodded ack, and turned to tell the detective everything he saw in detail. 

Crowley took professional shots of the body, looked in over, and noted everything that was similar to the previous cases. The last murder had only been a few weeks ago. A teenager only about a year older than Warlock with short blond hair. 

Quietly he mourned for the kid, but then dusted himself off. His job was mostly done there, time to talk to his favorite hellspawn.

He babysat Warlock when his parents went on business trips, which meant he was practically a live in nanny for six years, but it was a great job with cushy pay. Crowley was good with kids, but he was quiet the goth in the six years of caring for Warlock. Then he got his doctorate and here he was. 

“So, why are you so far from where I last saw you hellspawn?”

“Mom and Dad moved here for the new business opportunities. I live around here now.”

Crowley hummed, “You’re living real close to me, War. Are you sure you didn't beg them to move to see me?” He teased which got him a raspberry.

“...I did miss you Nanny.”

“Missed you too Hellspawn. Anyway, I know a few kids you might be able to make friends with.”

\---------------------

Now with Crowley’s number in Warlock’s phone, under the name Nanny with horrible bat and knife emojis surrounding the contact, Crowley was back in the office doing an official autopsy on the newest victim. He wondered how Aziraphale was doing.

\---------

Aziraphale was playing a big bad werewolf for the Them to defeat. He got stabbed by a foam sword and dramatically fell to the ground. He peaked an eye open and smiled at the kids cheering.

He laughed as Adam triumphantly yelled, “We have bested the most vicious werewolf.”

Then he let out a dorky growl to which the kids giggled at, “I have been defeated by mighty heroes!”

Then he got up and brushed off any bits of ground off of himself, “Sorry children, I’ve got to get home and make dinner.”

“Will you make us muffins tomorrow. Please.” They all gave their best sweet and innocent pleading smile.

Aziraphale gave a fake thoughtful noise, “I don’t know, you did just stab and defeat me.”

“All the more reason! Winners spoils!” Pepper said confidently and he chuckled.

“I suppose I can."


	20. Part Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love Beelzebub as a character.

Warlock integrated well with the Them. They included him in the games and they told him about Mr. Crowley’s friend Mr. Aziraphale, who bakes and plays with them. Warlock wonders if Nanny got a husband while he was in the town. 

“Where did Mr. Aziraphale come from?” He asked around the lollipop in his mouth. 

“We dunno. But he lives with Mr. Crowley.”

Warlock nods and they go back to playing, and then a blond man walks over. He is at first very skeptical, because he hardly trusts any adults. He’s been almost kidnapped enough times, don't ask.

“Mr. Azira! did you bring them?”

The blond snorts and holds out a small picnic basket, “Yes you mini mobsters. A dozen chocolate chip muffins.”

Adam grins and takes the basket and opens the top, as if inspecting the goods. He nods, and Aziraphale smiles and shakes his head at the antics. 

So this was Mr. Aziraphale. He wore a sweater with a collared shirt underneath, he was wearing dorky looking round glasses. Warlock wondered how Nanny found him, was he lurking in a bookshop and took of with the first nerd that took his fancy? Warlock hummed and took a muffin.

“And who are you?”

“Warlock.” He replied before shoving a muffin in his mouth. The blond looked like he recognized the name and smiled.

“Alright dears, I have to get home.”

“Are you having one of those adult nights again?” Brian asked, his hands messy with the melted chocolate chips.

Aziraphale looked confused and made a noise of confirmation, “Yes Anathema and Dagon and Newt are coming over.”

”Pepper looked affronted, “I don't see why we cant come.”

"There are five adults drinking wine. No children thing."

“You said it was basically a sleepover.” Adam pointed out.

“Yes well, you wouldn’t have anywhere to sleep.”

The them nodded sagely, yes they wouldn't want to sleep on the floor. Warlock is looking at the conversation with some amount of curiosity.

Aziraphale hums and leaves with a wave telling them to return the basket when they were done. Adam nodded, before taking another muffin.

\------

Crowley called and he sounded very tired and annoyed, “Anathema accidentally invited an FBI agent to club night.”

Aziraphale blinked a few times before humming, “Well thank you for telling me this. I’ll be sure to be on my most human behavior.”

Crowley laughed, “You’re a bastard.”

“Yes, I suppose I am. I’ll have some extra food for them.”

\------

How they got invited to a get together was a blur. They heard about the get together and asked about it, being curious. Device suddenly asked if they would like to join them.   
Why they said yes? Well, it would be nice to know a few more things about the group. Beatrice Swatter was naturally very curious and very much wanted to know what happened between the group that they had been working with. It might also be interesting to see them out of a professional situation.

So they found themselves driving behind a beat up old car, Pulsifer’s. 

The thing would be held at Crowley’s place, so they followed, having not been native to this place. They watched carefully everything that went on, making sure that nothing funny was being pulled.

Their first impression of the flat was the door. Crowley had pulled in behind them, and then scooted tot he front to unlock the door.

“Azira! We are home!” he called, and Bee heard something be put down in the kitchen and footsteps.

The group took their shoes off at the door, something Bea noted. They were taking note of everything, just in case. Also because they liked to know things about people.

“Hello Dear. Ana, Newt, Dagon, and you must be..?” He came out of the kitchen in comfortable clothes. He looked like the opposite of the redhead.

“Agent Swatter. And you are?”

The blond blinked then smiled, “Azira.”

Swatter took the information with ease. The design was minimalistic, what they thought would be the ME’s aesthetic. Little hints of someone else’s liveliness as there, such as an angel mug full of steaming cocoa, were around. There was one thing that broke the clean and cozy atmosphere. 

A huge dark stain on the floor. The carpet held the stain brightly, and they wondered what it was from. Would it be rude to as so soon? Probably. They can wait. 

It looked a little, no it couldn't be, it looked a little like blood.

\-------

The conversations were less amicable now that there was an outsider. Aziraphale, always the heart, tried to make sure everyone was having fun, but it was like eggshells. They were trying not to say anything to the outsider that would seem suspicious. 

Swatter could tell hey had quieted due to their being there. If they had a bit more of a sociable personality they would be offended, but right now, they knew that something was weird. They were trying to hide something and Bee made it their mission to know what was being terrible hidden.

“So, what is the stain on the carpet?” No tact, just bluntness. They would have been a terrible lawyer.

Crowley choked on his wine and coughed a small fit, Azira’s hand pat his back through it.

“Slime.” Aziraphale said decisively, it was said so confidently Bee might have even took it for an answer.

“Oh, sorry, it just looked like blood.”

Anathema went white as well, and Dagon was looking into her drink, by far the best poker face out of the group. Pulsifer had no clue what was going on, so Bee decided he was left out of the important things.

Azira laughed, only the small twitch of his eye gave him away, “No only slime. I don’t know if there was a time anyone could have bled on the floor.”

He was suspicious. Bee was war of him, and wanted to find out more about him. Something about him set off their gut feeling, their meter of criminality. He stood up and smiled, “Anymore wine? Or do you all want to be able to drive home?”

Anathema raised her hand in a silent ask for another glass, “Thank you.”

Dagon huffed, “Unfair, you have a DD for these events.”

Anathema hummed, “Get a partner who doesn't drink. Newt is my driver.”

Bee watched the more free flowing conversation. Dagon rolled her eyes.

“So Crowley have you finally confessed?” She kept her tone conspiratory and low and Crowley stuck his tongue out at her.

Before he could say anything, Azira came back into the room and gave the redhead a kiss to the temple, “Does that answer your question Dagon?”

Dagon looked shocked but grinned, “How you hear me from that kitchen is anyone’s guess.”

“You forget that you whispering is loud enough to make the dead roll.”

Dagon stuck her tongue out, and Anathema got her second glass. Bee wondered if this was an inside joke, because at the mention of the dead, Anathema and Crowley snorted.   
Wait. Them laughing at the dead joke makes this seem like they all were in on this thing.

What were they hiding?


	21. Part Twenty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :)

Bee watched the rest of the night, most of them talking about something or other that is unimportant. There were moments they could hear the same kind of jokes that set their suspicion. 

Azira hummed, and they noticed that he drank much more than anyone else, but didn't eat anything that he had cooked. That’s weird. Or maybe they were making everything more than it was. But their eye for detail made them a great FBI agent.

They wondered what was going on there. Is it a cult or are they killers? If they were killers they would applaud them for not getting caught while having a stable job.   
They didn't drink anything and drove themselves to their hotel. 

\----------  
The serial killer case was going on longer than the FBI had been hoping it would. Swatter didn't like staying in a hotel for so long, they missed their wretched little apartment.   
Two weeks had went by from the night of the get-together. They had searched for anything to be wrong, for one of them to slip up. To say or do something, or to let down their mask while no one was supposedly looking. Nothing.

One night they had a lead, and Bee was practically foaming at the mouth to catch the killer. They had a squad hiding around town to grab if they found the killer and they fled. Device demanded to be there to help the case and they allowed it, since she had been a huge reason they had the lead.

It was so close to Crowley’s flat, they wondered briefly, before shaking the thought away.

“Swatter, we have read up down Ax.” Bee went into action, silently getting to the scene as fast as they could and heard Device behind them. She was surprisingly quiet.  
There was a group of kids, four of them. Crowley and Azira were with them. What the fuck?

Before they could think the worst something happened. A woman came out of the trees running for the kids Bee was too far away to get there to stop her, but Crowley shielded the kids.

A gunshot rang out. 

\--------

Crowley looked down and saw blood trickling out of his side. Shit. Shit. Shit. The woman pointed the gun again and he closed his eyes, bracing to use himself as a shield. The next gunshot did not get accompanied by a killing blow, but by a grunt. Aziraphale! 

He saw the hole where the bullet went through his chest, clean through his body but the bullet hadn't it anyone else.

He heard gasps, the kids were wide eyed, “Mr. Crowley, you’ve been shot.”

Crowley nodded. The adrenaline was keeping him from complete collapse, but it would hurt like hell when it wore off.

Another gunshot, and another. Another. Aziraphale was walking closer to the serial killer, who was standing her ground with an angry grimace, her eyes wide and bloodthirsty.  
Crowley flinched as he saw another bullet go to the blonds head. That would hurt.

Aziraphale grabbed the gun and crushed it in his hand. The woman tried to run at the kids again, her eyes zeroing in on Adam. Then the woman was on the ground, unconscious. Aziraphale had knocked her out, but not killed her. The pacifist.

\-----------

Beatrice Swatter had never felt so sick. The second gunshot was right at the mans heart, and they felt a pang of sympathy. But he didn't fall.

He took another shot.

Another bullet.

Another to his leg.

And then one to his head. 

He was still walking. He crushed a gun in his hand and knocked the woman out.

Swatter’s eyes widened. His open wounds were bleeding blueish black ooze, He looked like a walking corpse.

“Mr. Aziraphale!” The boy behind Crowley yelled, “Mr. Crowley is hurt!”

Aziraphale was over tot he group of kids and injured man. He placed a hand over the wound and took off his jacket. The makeshift tourniquet made the redhead groan in pain, but it was helping stop the bleeding. 

Bee finally broke out of the stupor seeing Device cuff the killer. They went over ear piece and called for backup.

\-------

Aziraphale noticed the FBI agent and Anathema much too late and touched the hole in his head.

“Go Mr. Aziraphale, that person called the police.” Adam said, and the dead man was going to protest but then realized that he would be no help looking like he should be well in the grave.

Crowley smiled at him, “I’ll see you at the hospital.”

Aziraphale felt tears, “Don’t say that.”

He kissed the redhead quickly and set back into the woods faster than a human should.

\-----------

The ambulance took Crowley to the hospital, and the EMT told him that he would be spick and span after surgery and rest. It hadn't it anything vital thank god. He smiled weakly and tried to keep his eyes open.

Anathema had been holding the cuffed criminal when the reporters arrived. That was going to be a front page image, guaranteed. 

Bee went to find the kids and found them all huddled together, some of them still had Crowley’s blood on them. They cleared their throat.

“You wont say anything.” The only girl said, the statement was said like it was iron and steel coated.

“What is he?”

“You can’t tell anyone about him. They’ll take him away!” the one with messy hand and brown hair whispered yelled.

“I-”

“We will call you crazy and say there was no one else on the scene. If you say anything different no one will believe you. Mr. Crowley and Miss Anathema wont back you up.” The leader said confidently.

Beatrice Swatter had never been threatened by children before. There always seemed to be a first time for everything.

“Why?” Was what came out of their mouth.

“He is our friend. You cant take him.” the one with glasses sad bravely. He had been the quietest beforehand.

Bee could do nothing but nod.

And speak of the devil, when people where asking Anathema the details for the report, she said nothing about Aziraphale. She crafted the story expertly, not leaving any gaps for argument.

Reporters swarmed the area and Agent Swatter felt like they knew nothing for the first time in their life.


	22. Part twenty-two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all love Beelzebub. Because They're gonna come back!!

Waking up in the hospital was disorienting. Crowley was trying not to go blind from the pure whiteness and he groaned in annoyance. He would recover, just a few more days in the hospital would be great. The news channel covered the case, and he grinned when Aziraphale wasn't mentioned anywhere.

Speaking of the blond, he was going to be visiting him today. He visited him every day but still, he loved the visits.

“Hello dear.”

He turned and smiled, “Hey zombie.”

Aziraphale smiled and handed him a small bag of baked goods, “You are always complaining about hospital food.”

“Thank you.” He opened the bag and was already going to eat a huge cookie. The blond giggled.

“The Them and Warlock wasn't to visit you tomorrow. I told them I would ask if you could see them.”

Crowley nodded, “Yeah, might as well see the antichrist and his little demons.”

“And your nickname for Warlock. Hellspawn was it?”

“He was a little bit of a brat when he was tiny zombie you can’t blame me.” He took a bite of the cookie and grinned.

He swallowed before speaking, because he was a well mannered lover, “These are great as always.”

Aziraphale smiled, taking his hand. Crowley gave it a squeeze.

“I thought you were going to die.” 

They hadn't talked about it yet, because Crowley didn’t want to think about what could have happened. He didn’t want to think about how he could have left everyone. Though he would have easily given his life for those kids, no matter how annoying they sometimes got. Which was never, he was just being contrary. 

“I know angel. But you protected us.” he placed the worrying blonds hand over his heart.

“I’m still kicking.”

Aziraphale smiled, his eyes still a little watery, taking a shaky breath he popped his fingers.

“Agent Swatter saw the whole thing.”

“...yeah.”

“What do you thin we can do?”

Crowley thought for a moment, “Make them think that it was all a hallucination?”

Aziraphale looked like he was seriously contemplating it but sighed, “that wouldn't be right.”

“You getting taken by the FBI isn't right zombie.”

Aziraphale hummed, his mouth was pouty and Crowley made a noise.

“Hey. Enough of the sad things. Gimme a kiss.”

This got him the treat of rolled eyes and a soft kiss. He grinned and yawned.

“Anathema is amazing with excluding details.” He commented, as the news played the same story for the Ten Thousandth time.

“Yes she is. If it had been anyone else we may have not gotten away with this for so long.” This Crowley agreed with. Anathema is a huge reason they keep such a good secret.   
“mmm Zombie.”

Aziraphale chuckled, “Yes?”

He made a kissy face, all of this affectionate behavior he can blame on the medicine they keep him on. So he has no shame at this moment.

The blond rolled his eyes and kissed him again softly. Then a nurse came in and ushered him out, saying that Crowley needed his rest. He did as told and left with a wave. Crowley pouted but he did feel tiredness rest on his chest. 

So he went to bed.

\---------

Aziraphale walked into the flat with a sigh. The house felt empty. He wondered if this is how Crowley felt after he had run off. Flicking on the lights he saw the agent in his house.  
“What the fuck?” That was the first time he had sworn in forever, he broke his streak! 

“What are you?” The agent threatened. They had nothing that would hurt him, and frankly they were trembling. 

Aziraphale blinked a few times. He wondered what he should say. The agent was shaking harder now, looking like they would fall over.

“I am dead. I am not a zombie as much as they use that nickname. One day I woke up and it was years after I had died and somehow Crowley had woken me up.”

Swatter nodded. Then they ran past him to the door and his reflexes were faster than his brain. He had snatched the back of their shirt. 

“You cant tell anyone.”

“No one will believe me.” They broke away and left. 

Aziraphale watched the agent leave and felt lost. He locked the door behind him and went to bed.

\---------  
The day that Crowley was released from hospital, he was greeted by his friends in his home. Aziraphale had made his favorite foods, the Them plus Warlock had shown up with cards, Anathema and Newt came with board games, Dagon had showed up with a sleeping bag because she knew that none of them would be leaving.

Crowley may have cried. No one needed to know that though. 

Playing monopoly lead to so many fights, and Aziraphale takes the kids home when he looses. It was late so he needed to do that anyway. He sent them home with leftovers for their parents and some backed goods.

When he got back Dagon and Anathema were the only ones left and they were squabbling over the railroads. Crowley had taken to laying on the couch with a glass of juice. He was rooting for Dagon, even if she was a dick sometimes.

Aziraphale smiled at the scene and sat next to Crowley’s head, to which the redhead situated himself so that his head was in the other’s lap.

This joy was like a balm to all their aching and uneasy souls. Crowley felt so much lighter than he did before. It was easy and carefree. He felt like things were back to normal, he felt like life had finally righted itself.

Anathema saw everyone living and safe. She had visual reassurance that all of her friends, happy, sane and healthy. There was nothing to worry about anymore.  
Dagon wasn't there for most things, but she could be there to make the people she had grown closer feel less alone and sad.

Aziraphale no longer had to come home to an empty house.


	23. Part Twenty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isn't it scary how one person can change your life so much? Knowing someone for a day, or for months or years. Isn't it funny how even the smallest of connections can change your world. With a word or an action or a pattern of kindnesses or unkindness's someone is a character in your story.

Aziraphale was worried. There had been no sign of the FBI agent, and he had a small side of him saying that he shouldn't have let the, go so easily.

Crowley hummed against his leg, and he remembered where he was. He was in his own bed with Anthony J. Crowley, the only ever romantic interest he had, in his lap. He put his book to the side and began to play with Crowley’s hair. Today was the redheads last day of work release, he was excused for a month, which he found like a silly amount of time. 

A record was playing on the player, one that Anathema got Crowley for his birthday. Hey Lover played softly through the flat. Crowley had loved the record art and bought it without thinking. It ended up being a favorite of theirs. 

“True love and understanding~ True Love and understanding~”

Aziraphale hummed along, Crowley tapped the beat on his thigh. 

“I think with how many times you would have died on a case if you hadn't been miraculously saved you should stay off such dangerous cases.”

Crowley laughed gruffly, “Trust me I would do anything to stay off of the homicide detective games for a while. Much more Anathema’s work than mine.” 

They both sit in silence for a second, “Honestly I dunno how I get in these situations.”

Aziraphale hummed, “I don’t either.”

Crowley stuck out his tongue, “If I had any common sense I wouldn't be here with my head in your lap.”

The blond snorts, “I’m glad you had no thoughts in your head when you found me.”

“Ey! I have no thoughts ever!” Crowley protested.

“I can tell.”

“Low blow.”

They hold eye contact for exactly three point four seconds before bursting out laughing.

Aziraphale laid back against the wall, Crowley cuddled closer to his lap and Aziraphale laughs, “You know when I fall asleep I’m going to be cold.”

Crowley scrunches his face, “I’ll suffer for love.”

They laid there for a while, both enjoying the music with no conversation. Soon that was all it took for them both to be asleep.

\-----------

Crowley looks up and sees that Aziraphale had already gotten ready for the day. He could smell cinnamon rolls and hear the reverberated tune of Hey Lover. The song must have gotten stuck in his head.

He had work in an hour and a half so he changed and did all the hyenine things one did to look and smell nice.

He then draped himself over the back of his- well, they hadn't put a name to it yet, much too fast for the both of them- his zombie.

“Hello dear. Good morning.”

“Mhgnnn.”

“Yes I know. You hate waking up. There is coffee over there you addict.”

Crowley wondered how Aziraphale had so easily dropped into this century. He took all things in stride, spoke like he was his age in this time period, he worked the technology that wasn't there when he was alive with now practiced ease. The dead man adapted well enough, and he was the reason he went out and knew people.

It’s scary how much one person can change your life isn't it?

\-----------  
Getting home from the market with a basket full of ingredients for dinner. He had come home a bit later than he had before, but he thought he still beat Crowley until he saw the Bentley. 

He huffed a little but went up the stairs and took out the keys he had gotten for the fat and then realized it was unlocked. That worried him a little but he pushed in and closed the door and locked it behind him. 

Turning back he dropped the basket. 

“Agent!”

Swatter was in their Livingroom, but this time they had something with them as a bargaining chip. 

The bargaining chip was in the form of a silver blade up against Crowley’s throat. The redhead was on his knees, breathing shallowly so that the neck on his skin wouldn't touch the cool metal.

The fear in his eyes sent something to Aziraphale’s heart. He felt cold. 

“What. are. you. doing?” He ground out, his eyes blazing in fury.

“I want to know. I need to know everything.” They spit out and Aziraphale nodded.

“Ok. What do you need to know?”

“Why do you exist? What are you? “

Aziraphale scoffed, “I don't now what I am-” He stopped as the agent pressed the blade closer to the redhead’s neck.

“I am Aziraphale Arch. I was murdered in 1875 and I woke up from being dead after someone knocked on my grave. I broke through the ice and here I am. I exist.”

Bee hissed, “why do you exist?!”

They were making no sense.

“I don't now.’

Crowley in took a bit of breath and a small papercut thin slice appeared on the sensitive skin. Fuck. 

“I exist because someone woke me up!” He said desperately.

Swatter hummed and looked at him, “You’re dangerous.”

Aziraphale felt like that statement was rich, since he wasn't the one with a knife to someone else’s neck, but he said nothing.

“You exist because someone woke you up hmm? Do you think it mattered who knocked or did it have to be someone specific?” They asked offhandedly, their grip on the knife growing tighter. If Aziraphale just talked to them long enough they calmed down he could get them out without any harm coming to Crowley.

“I don't know if it mattered. Or maybe there were criteria for someone who knocks on a watery grave.” He said plainly.

“Hm. Where do you draw your power? Or are you just alive now?” Swatter began to look more manic as time went on and he wondered how anyone could think they were ever passing as sane. 

“Uh. I don't know-”

“Do you think If I got rid of this link to the world you would die?” They asked, the hand not holding a knife gesturing to Crowley.

“Do you think if the person that brought you to this world died you would cease existing, or would you live on without them? Or maybe you’d go back to stasis until someone found you again and knocked you awake.” The twisted the knife a little as they spoke and Aziraphale’s eyes wouldn't leave the item. Every movement he had seen and trained his eyes on it.

“..I don't know...” He answered hesitantly as they looked at him, expectant for an answer.

“Well.” They move the knife slightly away from tender throat, “time to find out.”

And the knife slid against flesh, deep and destructive.

Aziraphale ran over as Swatter moved away, watching the scene. 

See Beatrice Swatter was always naturally curious. They liked to know things. To not know something was torture.

Aziraphale didn't know what to do, but he knew that he couldn't salvage this. He couldn't do this alone. He clutched Crowley close, blood getting all over him as the redhead tried to breath, but couldn't around the building fluid in his throat.

How fitting, Crowley thought bitterly, Drowning.

Something they didn't notice was how Aziraphale's skin lost its tinge of human pallor. Every bit of blood that left Crowley, was every bit of life draining not out of him, but also Aziraphale.

Beatrice Swatter hummed. Yes. Crowley was special. He was the only one who could have raised the dead man. 

They left the scene, the knife tucked away. They wouldn't leave it there. They weren't an idiot.

\------------

Anathema came when she hadn’t gotten a text back. She worried far too much she knew, but she opened the door and gasped.

Crowley and Aziraphale laid on the ground, both dead. Aziraphale was dead dead. Their hands were interlocked and she felt tears roll down her face. Shakily she called the police, her voice wavering as she described what she had just seen.

Taking a look at Aziraphale's aura, it was gone, the chains had gone a dull copper and laid on the spectral ground.


	24. Epilouge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I added something to ease your pain. But I had this planned from day one. Truly, the only way to be together is in death isn't it? Shakespeare agrees but I do it with less destruction of women

Anathema had to break the news through tears and snot to Newt and Dagon. How could they even tell the kids? They were gone. 

At the funeral, they had forged documents for Aziraphale so that he could get buried next to Crowley. They would have wanted it that way, she thought distantly through the fog of her mind.

Dagon was the one to tell the kids. She was the only one who wouldn't burst into tears the moment she saw them and thought of what happened. When she had brought them for ice-cream and took them to a secluded park of the park they wondered why, until she told them.

It took two tries to explain it, but as soon as they all understood, the mood was destroyed. The kids took it almost worse than Anathema did, and Dagon held them all close, even if she never was the best with kids. She would wish someone was there for her if she was in their position. 

So she hugged them as they all cried and got angry. They got so angry. Adam was yelling into the sky, as if God or someone would hear him as he yelled about how it was unfair. Pepper screamed and punched the ground. Brian held tightly to Dagon's jacket and Wenslydale curled up in a ball

\---------

The worst part of the funeral was that they didn't know who it was and it was a closed casket for both of them. The flowers created a link between the coffins, Anathema wanted that touch there. 

It was after the funeral that they all went to the grave. 

The watery one from 144 years ago. They sat around it, placing petals into the water and saying things they wish they had time to have done with their friends.

“I wish I could have been a groomsman at their wedding.” Warlock said wetly.

“I wish I could have been there with them one Christmas.” Pepper gave wistfully, putting the last of her petals in the water.

Anathema had curiosity and looked to see the auras of her friends and something caught her eyes.

Baby blue and Flamboyant red danced around the field. Her jaw dropped as she watched the dancing figures of her friends. They looked happy, dancing in each others arms.  
Then the two of them danced over, gently smiling and placing their hands on each persons head.

Flowers from the grave started to rise out of the water, swirling in a final display of love. And then they both were gone. 

Well. At least she knew they weren't separated from each other like they were from their friends.


End file.
